Will Save You
by AlElizabeth
Summary: AU. Set late Season 3. Sam is desperate to save Dean from Hell and makes one last-ditch attempt to make a deal with a crossroads demon. Much to Sam's surprise, the demon agrees and Dean is freed from his contract. Sam, however, knows that demons don't give something for nothing but the price isn't at all what he expected.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One: You Bet Your Life**

Sam stared out the windshield of the Impala, his heart hammering nervously in his chest. He took a deep, steadying breath and opened the vehicle's door, the creak of squeaky hinges sounding extremely loud in the quiet surrounding the young man. Crickets chirruped in the tall grass on the sides of the dirt road and somewhere off in the distance a dog barked.

Sam peered into the interior of the classic Chevy, smiling slightly at the brown paper bag sitting on the passenger seat, his brother's name scrawled on the packaging in black marker. The hunter closed the door softly and walked around to the trunk, his shoes crunching on the bits of gravel on the road.

Sam had told Dean he was going to pick them up some dinner from the small restaurant they had passed on their way into town- and Sam hadn't lied, exactly- but he also had other intentions tonight. A full, bloated moon cast a silvery glow on the world, turning everything ghostly and pale.

Gathering what he needed from the trunk, Sam began walking down the road at a deceptively leisurely pace. He was really just trying to enjoy the sights and sounds around him; the grass jeweled with night dew, the millions of diamond-bright stars, the wind sighing across the field, the singing of the crickets and the mournful calling of an owl.

Sam stopped once he reached the crossroads and his thoughts turned to his brother. Dean would kill him if he knew what he was about to do. Sam grimaced; if it even worked. Dean had been adamant that any form of trying to rescind the deal would end badly. What Dean hadn't remembered though, was that the Winchesters were a stubborn lot and Sam had his fair share of that particular family trait.

Besides, Sam thought to himself as he knelt down and began carefully digging in the very center of the crossroads, it's my fault Dean made that deal in the first place. If I had just been a little bit faster, a little bit smarter, Jake wouldn't have killed me.

Dean never would have let something like that happen, Sam told himself. I'm just a screw up… I've always been a screw up. Dean's the better hunter. He shouldn't have been forced to make that deal in the first place.

Sam wiped surreptitiously at his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket and settled the cigar box into the small hole he'd made.

Dean had weeks left and Sam had finally snapped. He couldn't take the thought of living in a world without his big brother in it. Although Sam had tried this before only to be scoffed at every time, he couldn't help but make one last-ditch attempt. If it worked, Dean would get a new lease on life, he'd be able to continue doing what he did best (and loved to do) save people and hunt monsters… if it didn't, well, Sam had decided that he wouldn't have to be without his brother for long because he would gladly end his own life before he drowned in grief.

Straightening, Sam closed his eyes for a moment as he waited, feeling the cool breeze brush his bangs back from his sweaty brow.

The change was nearly imperceptible but Sam knew when the demon had arrived. He slid his eyes open and smiled grimly at the sight of the beautiful young woman standing before him. She was lithe and tall, her milky skin almost shone in the gloom, her red hair nearly reached her waist as it fluttered in the wind. The tight black dress she wore did not leave much to the imagination.

The Crossroads demon blinked and her clear blue eyes turned a crimson red. She stepped forward, smiling before gasping and making a face once she recognized the young man who had called her.

"What part of 'your brother's hellhound chow' don't you understand?" she hissed, anger contorting her pretty face into a grotesque mask. She half-turned, tossing her fiery hair arrogantly.

"Wait!" Sam cried, reaching out with one hand as if to grab hold of the woman and stop her.

The demon paused and rolled her eyes.

"Please," Sam begged and cringed. The woman smirked and put her hands on her shapely hips.

"The Devil knows why I'm going to but I'll hear you out," the woman commented, "I could always use a good laugh."

Although the demon didn't seem to enthusiastic, she wasn't leaving so Sam decided to take that as a start at least.

"Let Dean go," Sam commanded, "Tear up his contract."

The woman breathed a sigh, "You know if that happens you die, right?"

Sam nodded quickly. He'd heard this all before.

"I know and… I'm alright with that," Sam answered and the demon raised an eyebrow.

"That's just great, honey," the demon mocked, "But I'm also sure you know that I can't do anything about Dean's contract."

"Lilith has it," Sam confirmed, his heart falling.

The woman held her hands out, "So you see? My hands are tied. Why don't you try talking to the queen bee herself?"

Sam clenched his jaw, "Because I'm talking to you!"

The demon chuckled, "And I'm flattered that you think I'm so important but you are really barking up the wrong tree. My advice, go back to whatever run-down motel you're staying at and enjoy the last few days with your big brother."

"I'm not asking for the full ten," Sam ignored the demon, "Give me a year, like Dean got, that's only fair."

"You really are not in the position to be bargaining with me," the demon warned.

"Six months," Sam continued, "Eight weeks, a day, and hour… I don't care!"

The demon seemed taken aback by how persistent the young man was, no one suggested less time Topside. Lilith had said the younger Winchester had spirit and now that the Crossroads demon had seen it first hand, she was intrigued. It was clear that Sam Winchester was willing to do anything as long as it would mean tearing up his brother's contract.

A genuine smile touched the demon's lips, "Okay, here's what I'll do. Because you are just too adorable when you're desperate, I'll talk to my superiors and see about making Dean's deal disappear. I'm not promising you anything, you understand. Lilith really wants your brother Downstairs so this might all be for naught."

Sam nodded, emotion clogging his throat. Dean might soon be free of his deal.

The demon blew Sam a kiss, "Now don't go anywhere, I'll be right back."

As soon as the woman disappeared, Sam sagged, feeling as though a heavy weight was pressing down on his shoulders. If this worked, if the demon somehow managed to convince her superiors to scrap Dean's deal, Sam would be at peace.

Minutes passed and the young man was beginning to think that the demon had played him. He wouldn't have been surprised if that was what happened. Getting ready to go back to the car and drive home to the motel, Sam took a step forward and paused when the demon appeared once again.

Her expression was unfathomable and Sam wasn't sure if that was good or not.

"You thought I'd skipped out on you?" she asked, her lips lifting into an amused grin.

Sam scowled but didn't answer.

"Smile Sam! Dean's off the hook!" the woman exclaimed and the young man's frown melted, his eyes widening in astonishment.

The moment of happiness and excitement- relief- dried up quickly and Sam approached the demon.

"How long do I have?" he asked nervously, eyeing the woman. For all Sam knew, he had an hour to return to his brother and say his goodbyes.

The demon shrugged, "Oh, I don't know…"

Sam's heart skipped a beat, "What do you mean? Dean's contract is gone, right?"

"Oh, it is, Sammy," the woman nodded, "I watched Lilith tear it up, myself."

"Then how much time do I have?" he asked again, an uneasy feeling creeping into his stomach.

The demon's smile widened, she was enjoying stringing the young man along.

"Don't worry," she told him, "You're not becoming kibble anytime soon."

Sam wasn't sure what to think about that. Demons never made a deal without demanding something in return.

"I'm not going to Hell?" Sam asked, feeling like he was missing something that should be obvious.

"No," the demon assured him, "But that doesn't mean there's no consolation prize."

"What do you want?" Sam wondered out loud. If the demon didn't want his soul, what else was there to give?

"You," the red-haired woman answered simply, smiling at the confused expression on the young man's face.

Sam unconsciously took a step back from the demon.

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked, unable to hide the fear that had crept into his voice. His palms were slick with sweat and a drop slid sluggishly down his spine despite the cool night.

The demon's eyebrows furrowed, "Oh so now you want to back out? Did you really think Lilith would release your brother from his contract and let the two of you go on your merry way?"

Sam shook his head, unable to find his voice. Why was he suddenly so frightened? He knew that if he made a deal with a demon he'd have to pay. He had come to terms with the fact that he would likely be a hellhound chew-toy so why did this scare him so?

The woman brushed her host's hair away from her face and sighed, "Look, you're smart; I know you are so I'll explain it to you. That's more than most other people get when they deal with the likes of me."

Sam nodded and wiped his hands on his jeans.

"I know you were hoping to get the grand tour of Hell," the woman smirked, "But Lilith had other plans and you know nobody's going to argue with her."

Sam shuddered at the thought of the ancient demon. He looked the woman in the eye, waiting for her to speak.

"You're familiar with the idea of indentured servitude, right?" the Crossroads demon grinned, her teeth very white against her pale skin.

"Y-yeah," Sam muttered, his heart pounding like a jackhammer in his chest.

"Well, now that we've got that out of the way," the woman told him, "There's a contract with your name on it. All you have to do is seal the deal and Dean's free as a bird."

Sam's brow furrowed, "But you said Lilith already had his contract destroyed."

The demon inclined her head, "Did I say that? I guess that's partly true. Consider Dean as being on parole, if you go through with this deal, Dean's contract goes poof! If you have second thoughts than your big brother gets a ticket to ride the Hellfire Express, just like before."

Sam lowered his head, thinking.

"When does my contract start?" he asked as confidently as he could manage.

The demon smirked, "As soon as we kiss, sweetheart."

Sam drew in a quick breath. He thought he'd have more time… time to say goodbye to his brother. Then again, why should he be so lucky?

"Alright," the young man whispered, determination pushing him forward.

The demon stepped up to him and raised her arms so that her wrists rested on Sam's shoulders. The young man ducked his head down, his hands grasping her waist.

Sam closed his eyes as he kissed the woman, feeling as though the demon was sucking the very life from him. Sam frowned; tasting cinnamon predominantly on the host's lips and something else, something foul just underneath… sulfur. He didn't pull away though; he would let the demon make the first move. He didn't want to fuck this up.

The young man felt himself gasping for air when the demon finally released him. The woman smirked when she saw tears well up in the youngest Winchester's eyes.

She raised one hand and pressed her palm against the back of Sam's head, inclining his head down towards her again. She stood up on her tiptoes and her lips just brushed his ear.

"Remember," she whispered in a husky voice, "You're doing this for Dean."

**Author's Note:**

**1. Thanks to AlxM for helping me out with the idea for this fanfic.**

**2. Chapter title comes from a song of the same name by Rush. **

**3. Please leave a review! They're sweeter than cookies!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: Hollow**

Dean looked over his shoulder at the alarm clock on the nightstand and frowned. Was that really the time? No, it couldn't be. Sam should be back by now.

Thinking that the clock was broken or something, Dean dug his cell phone from his pocket and stared at the time.

That wasn't right; Sam should have been back a while ago.

Dean knew that his brother likely hadn't been caught up chatting with some pretty waitress or customer and if he had decided to take a long, moody walk, he would have called.

"Shit," the eldest Winchester swore and wiped a hand down his face. Sam had left to go get them food from the tiny diner Dean had pointed out as they had entered town over a half-hour ago. Dean kicked himself for letting his brother go alone. A sliver of fear wormed itself into Dean's belly and took root. Anything could have happened to Sam; he could have been in a car accident, Lilith's cronies could have found him.

Bolting to the door, Dean barely paused to grab his jacket, his need to find Sam irresistible.

Jogging across the parking lot, Dean stared at his phone, checking almost frantically for any missed calls from his brother. He had let Sam take the Impala- although it wasn't a long walk to the diner- claiming that it would get his supper to him faster but Dean really wanted to give the classic Chevy time alone with his brother, seeing as in only a handful of days, she would be Sam's; but now he regretted his decision. If he had the car, he would be able to find his brother- safe and sound- all the more quickly.

Dean scrolled down the speed-dial list and picked out his brother's cell phone number. He began moving faster as the phone rang and rang, finally going to voicemail.

"Fuck," Dean swore, "Where are you, Sammy?"

Dean hoped he was just overreacting and he would barge into the diner to see Sam deep in conversation with some nerdy girl who was likewise waiting for her order to be filled. Dean hoped he would see his brother roll his eyes and scowl in annoyance, tell him that he was fine and could take care of himself. Dean hoped that Sam was in the diner because if he was, he was going to kick his ass for scaring him.

_W_

The bell above the door tinkled merrily when Dean stepped inside the bright, clean restaurant. He did a sweep of the area, his eyes scanning the booths and tables and the bar but there was no sign of his brother's 6'4" frame.

Dean took a deep breath and walked up to the Formica counter, catching the attention of a waitress lounging by the cash register, her nose in a fashion magazine.

"Hi there!" the young woman exclaimed. Her bleach-blonde hair clashed horribly with her deeply tanned skin and white blouse and maroon uniform skirt.

"What can I get ya?" she asked, eyeing Dean appreciatively. The eldest Winchester ignored her gaze; he had more important things on his mind than the waitress.

"Did you see a guy come in here a while ago? He's really tall, has shaggy, dark brown hair, maybe ordered a salad?" Dean asked as the young woman leaned her forearms on the counter, giving him a good view of her cleavage if he so inclined.

"I did! But he didn't get a salad, Pumpkin. Got himself a cheeseburger and a big, old slice of our famous pecan pie!" the waitress informed Dean, her accent making the word pie sound like 'pah.'

"Did you see which way he went?" Dean questioned and the young woman batted her eyelashes at him seductively.

"Oh, off to the outskirts of town," she waved her hand vaguely to the left and Dean turned to stare out the plate-glass window.

"You know," the waitress piped up, "Your friend was kinda cute… not as cute as you though."

Dean had stopped listening. His feet moved of their own accord and he crossed the diner swiftly, his sense of urgency mounting.

Dean had an idea of why Sam would go to the edge of town- there was an old crossroads there- but he grimaced. Sam had tried to make deals before but he had been shot down every time.

Dean sighed as he exited the diner. His brother was tenacious, he'd give him that. With Dean's days rapidly dwindling into the single digits, he wasn't at all surprise his brother would try and get him out of his deal. Again.

The older Winchester's fear shriveled up and dissipated, replaced by anger. He'd told Sam not to try and weasel out of the deal! He'd been telling his brother that for nearly a year now and did the kid listen? Dean growled, he might as well have been talking to the friggin' wall for all the heed his brother paid him.

"Better look out, Sammy," Dean muttered vehemently under his breath, "'Cause I've got my ass-kicking boots on!"

_W_

Dean smiled when he saw the moonlight glint off dark metal- the Impala- and approached the vehicle, parked off to one side of the dry, dirt road.

"Sam!" Dean called loudly, thinking his brother was in the car or off in the field to either side of the road somewhere.

The eldest Winchester peered through the Chevy's rear window but didn't see his brother inside. Frowning, he walked along the length of the car and paused when he caught sight of the brown paper bag sitting on the front passenger seat.

Dean shivered when he saw his name scrawled in his brother's familiar writing on the crinkled bag.

"Sam?" Dean called in a quieter voice; only the crickets answered.

Raising his head slightly, Dean strained to catch sight of his brother if he was walking further down the road.

"What happened to him, baby?" Dean asked his beloved Impala as though it would tell him.

The older brother walked around the car, checking the drainage ditches along the side of the road and froze in his tracks when he saw the dirt in the very center of the crossroad had been disturbed.

"No," Dean whispered and lurched forward. Crouching down, Dean pawed through the disturbed dirt and unearthed a familiar cigar box.

With shaking hands, the eldest Winchester lifted the lid and he nearly dropped the entire box when he saw its contents.

Dean held the box with one hand and fished his wallet out of the pocket of his leather jacket with the other. Setting the cigar box gently down on the ground, Dean pulled one of his many from the wallet and replaced Sam's fake FBI card with it.

Putting the box back in the small hole, Dean quickly covered it and stepped back. He looked around the quiet, isolated stretch of road once again just to make sure his brother wasn't there and when he turned his attention back to the crossroad, an attractive red-head in a black dress was standing there. Dean had to admit, she was hot, even for a demon.

"Dean Winchester," the woman smiled and her eyes turned from blue to solid red, "I wondered when I'd be seeing you."

"Where's my brother, you bitch!" he snarled threateningly.

The Crossroads demon smirked, "Where do you think he is?"

"Don't play games with me! Where is he?!" Dean snapped and stepped forward.

"Relax," the demon suggested, "You're far too tense for someone who just got their life back."

That gave Dean pause. His stared at the woman and his mouth went dry.

"I thought nobody was dealing," he said, "I thought you all had me right where you wanted me."

The demon smiled widely and flicked her flaming hair over her shoulder, "Nothing's written in stone, Dean-o."

Dean's heart skipped a beat and his knees suddenly felt like they were made of jelly.

"No one would agree," he argued, all the fight leaving him as the demon's words began to sink in.

"What can I say? You're brother just melted my heart," the woman explained.

"You have no heart!" Dean snapped and the demon shrugged.

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to get his emotions under control.

"Dean, this is what your brother wanted," the demon said, a shard of humour clear in her voice, "You're out of the frying pan and he's in the fire."

Dean's eyes slid open, "No… He can't be… This wasn't supposed to happen…"

The woman's eyes pinched in mock sympathy, "I'm sorry to break it to you, honey, but Sam's long gone."

Dean staggered backwards, away from the demon- as if he could only flee her words and thus make them untrue- and gulped, gathering his strength to ask the next question.

"Where is he?" Dean repeated, "If he's… dead than where's his body?"

The woman smiled. She had already thought of this. Knowing that Dean wouldn't likely believe his brother was dead without seeing it with his own eyes, the demon had tracked down a decoy for the younger Winchester. It hadn't been all that difficult; really, the only problem was finding someone as tall as Sam. The demon had taken along a young hellhound- the beast overzealous and eager to please- to make sure everything was perfect. Normally, the demon would only be able to appear to those who wanted to make a deal- one of the few restrictions of the job- but with Lilith backing her, the Crossroads demon was able to move freely. The man who had died in Sam's place was a couple of inches shorter than the youngest Winchester but the demon doubted that Dean would notice. She was rather proud of herself for pulling such a feat off, especially if it fooled Dean Winchester.

The woman didn't answer the question directly but lifted one arm and pointed a delicate finger at the field just beyond the Impala.

Dean closed his eyes. His baby brother was lying in some lonely country field. Dead. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. It should have been him out there, not Sam.

"Now that we've gotten that out of the way," the demon's voice cut into Dean's thoughts like a knife, "I hope you live a long, long life, Dean Winchester. I'll be sure to tell your brother you said 'hi'."

The older brother's head snapped up at the last comment, mouth twisting in a snarl, ready to spew a sarcastic remark but the demon had already disappeared.

Dean felt his mouth dry up and his eyes well with tears. He wanted to go to his brother, _needed _to go to him but he couldn't move.

The older Winchester stumbled forward on wooden legs, feeling as though he was floating rather than walking. He reached out one hand as he walked past the Impala, running his fingers along her hood as if drawing strength from the vehicle. He barely registered the brush of wet grass against his jeans or the flocks of dusty white moths he scattered as he approached his brother's final resting place.

Glancing down, Dean's stomach clenched when he saw splashes of a dark liquid on some of the blades of grass. He quickly looked up, his gaze landing on the familiar constellation of the Big Dipper, or as Sam insisted on calling it, Ursa Major.

Dean's breath caught in his throat when his gaze left the sky and turned back to the earth and saw a crumpled figure lying in the middle of a patch of trampled grass. Knowing it was far too to save Sam but unable to help himself, Dean ran to his brother's side, ignoring the blood-soaked ground and dropped down onto his knees.

Dean's stomach clenched and he leaned over, away from his brother's body, and threw up thin bile.

Wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, Dean turned to Sam again. Blood saturated the younger man's clothes, making them look black in the moonlight. Sam was sprawled out on his back, legs twisted beneath him and hands in clenched fists near his head as if he had been trying to protect himself.

Dean didn't even feel the hot tears coursing down his cheeks as he stared at his brother's mangled body. Sam had deep gouges in his chest where torn flesh and broken bones poked through the ruins of his shirt. His face covered in large bite marks made him nearly unrecognizable. But Dean knew, how could he not? This was Sam. His baby brother was lying so still and cold in this field outside of some no-name town in Texas.

Dean reached out to his brother but then pulled back; instead he took hold of one of Sam's gore-streaked hands and lifted it to his cheek.

"I'm… I'm s-so sorry, Sammy! It sh-should have b-been me! I ne-never should have let this hap-happen!" Dean lamented loudly, knowing no one would hear him.

_W_

Dean didn't know how long he remained there beside his brother, cradling his hand, rubbing his thumb gently over Sam's icy knuckles the way he used to whenever the younger Winchester was sick or hurt. Eventually Dean stood stiffly and decided that the field would serve as his brother's final resting place. It wasn't a very good place to be interred, Dean thought, but he wasn't sure he would be able to carry his brother back to the Impala. Making up his mind, the older brother walked to the small copse of trees on the other side of the field.

Gathering the dry wood he would need, Dean tried not to think about what was happening to his brother. Sam was in Hell because of him. Sam was being tortured because of him. Sam didn't deserve that.

Dean methodically built the funeral pyre around and over his brother's body, feeling a pang of guilt once Sam was completely hidden from view.

Fishing his lighter from his pocket, Dean stood poised to ignite the construction, a lump in his throat at the thought that this was going to be the last time he would see his brother.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and tossed the lighter onto the pyre. The branches and leaf litter he'd gathered caught quickly were soon engulfed in orange flames.

Dean shivered despite the heat pouring off the fire and crossed his arms.

What was he going to do now? Sam was gone forever. His reason for living was dead.

Dean sighed and blinked away the tears that continued to stream down his face, his eyes already swollen and sore.

Once the pyre was nothing but a handful of charred branches and swirling ash, Dean turned his back on the last remnants of his brother's remains and walked slowly back to the Impala. He leaned against the driver's side door and frowned when he saw the paper bag sitting on the passenger seat.

Dean couldn't help the smile slightly. Only Sam would stop and pick up dinner before making a demon deal. Climbing into his beloved Chevy, Dean grabbed the bag and sat it on his lap. The food would be cold by now but he didn't care. Reaching a hand inside, Dean pulled out a foil-wrapped burger and a huge slice of Southern pecan pie in a Styrofoam container.

Dean's hands started to shake and he put the food back in the bag. He wasn't hungry. Instead, he curled his hands into fists and punched the Impala's steering wheel.

"Fuck!" Dean swore, "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Slumping forward, he closed his eyes and tried to calm down. He needed to pull himself together now. He needed to go back to the motel and grab their stuff- Dean grimaced; he supposed it was just _his _stuff now- and get out of this town.

Dean nearly bashed his head on the ceiling when his phone vibrated in his pocket and trilled out the chords to 'Smoke on the Water'. Fumbling the device out of his pocket, Dean saw that it was Bobby calling and almost didn't answer.

Clearing his throat, the eldest Winchester lifted the phone to his ear, "Yeah?"

"What bug's up yer ass?" the gruff hunter growled at the less-than warm greeting.

Dean swallowed thickly and tried to answer but he felt tears well up in his eyes again.

"Dean? Son, you still there?" Bobby's voice asked, sounding worried now.

"Uh huh," Dean managed, "I'm here, Bobby."

"Listen, I know you might hate me for saying this but I found an ancient Mesopotamian unbinding spell and-" the veteran hunter stopped mid-sentence before starting up again, "Dean? What's wrong? Oh Jesus."

"B-Bobby," Dean choked out, "It's Sam."

"What about Sam?" Bobby's voice was tinged with anxiety.

"He's… he…" Dean closed his eyes and shook his head, "Damn it! He's dead! He did it Bobby, he made a demon deal and now he's gone!"

The pause on the other line was so long Dean was afraid the older man had taken a heart attack from the shock.

"Bobby?" It was Dean's turn to sound concerned.

"Idjit," the veteran hunter breathed. Dean wasn't sure if the insult was directed at Sam or him. He decided that he was the idiot for not realizing what his brother had been planning and felt guilt bloom darkly amongst the fresh grief that weighed down his heart, made his stomach sour and that made his eyes burn tears just waiting to be shed

"I… uh… I gave him a hunter's funeral," Dean told his friend, his voice a little stronger now.

There was a rustle of clothing from the other end of the line and Dean could imagine Bobby nodding his head.

"Good," Bobby stated, his voice numb, "That's good. You did good, son."

"I w-would have brought him somewhere better," Dean explained, "But he was… pretty ch-chewed up."

Silence once again reigned between the two men but then Bobby spoke.

"You come on home now, Dean," the old hunter said and Dean felt tears of gratitude well up in his eyes.

Of course he knew he was always welcome at Bobby's place, it was just somehow meant something more to be actually invited. Especially now.

"Okay," Dean agreed, "I'll be there in a few hours."

"I'll keep a beer on ice for ya," Bobby promised and hung up the phone.

The eldest Winchester started the Impala and turned up the radio to its highest volume. Dean's teeth rattled and his eyes throbbed with the beat but he didn't care. With the music so loud, he couldn't even hear his own thoughts and that's what he wanted.

Dean's vision blurred but he kept driving- no way was he stopping now- as Megadeth's 'A Tout Le Monde' came pounding through the speakers and crashing into his head.

**Author's Note:**

**1. Chapter title comes from an Alice In Chains song of the same name.**

**2. Thanks to avidreader33, AshleyMarie84, cold kagome, mandancie, L.A.H.H, SamDeanLover28, Bunnykiss, nupinoop296, Jeanny, doyleshuny, AlxM, BranchSuper, SPN Mum, 2012summerstar, DianaLadris802, sarah, emebalia, ElizaT, and MysteryMadchen for reviewing.**

**3. Please leave a review! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: Demon's Eye**

Dean drove throughout the night. He made only one stop- the motel where he and his brother had been staying- before continuing on to South Dakota.

Dean tried to keep his gaze unwaveringly on the road ahead but he couldn't help glancing over at the passenger's seat every once in a while, his heart giving a jolt and his eyes burning with tears because Sam _should _be sitting there and _wasn't _sitting there.

Through the Impala's windshield, Dean watched the sun rise in silence. He had long turned off the radio- the music he loved sounding like white noise- only craving the familiar cadence of his brother's voice.

"Why'd you have to do it, Sammy?" Dean asked allowed as he narrowed his eyes at the golden rays of early morning sunlight seeming to mock him.

It should be raining, Dean decided, it should be cold and storming.

But the weather refused to reflect the eldest Winchester's mood as the temperature climbed and the hunter rolled the Impala's windows down for a refreshing breeze.

_W_

The classic Chevy's tires crunched over the gravel driveway as Dean pulled up to Bobby's ramshackle house. Dean didn't feel any relief at his arrival though. In truth, he could just as easily continued driving until he ran out of gas and then continued on foot, leaving his beloved Impala in the ditch.

But Bobby had told Dean to come- he had told Dean to come home- and the young man could not abandon his old friend who no doubt was hurting as much as he was.

Dean cut the engine but made no attempt to leave the vehicle. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths in preparation. He had managed to keep his emotions- his grief- under control while he drove but now that he was at his destination, he could already feel them start to swirl sourly in his belly and plug up his throat.

The _swish-bang _of a screen door opening and closing startled Dean and he watched despondently as Bobby stepped out onto the porch.

Dean saw the veteran hunter's eyes sweep across the interior of the Impala, as if searching for something he knew would be missing but unable to help himself.

With one trembling hand Dean opened the car door and stepped out, squinting at the older hunter.

Bobby left the porch, stomping tiredly down the wooden steps and across the sparse yard. His footsteps crunched loudly on the driveway before he halted before the younger man and pulled him into a strong hug.

Dean returned the gesture, holding onto Bobby just as strongly as the old hunter was embracing him.

Dean felt his grief and sorrow rise up from his belly and his eyes flooded with tears. He laid his chin against Bobby's shoulder and let the emotions he'd been bottling up for fifteen hours, overcome him.

_SPN_

Bobby Singer was dog-tired. After calling Dean and receiving the tragic news about Sam, the old hunter hadn't managed to get a wink of sleep. Instead, he'd shuffled into his kitchen and spent the night with Johnnie Walker. Pacing up and down his living room, Bobby had alternately cursed the youngest Winchester for his stupidity and praised him for his selfless act.

As the hours passed and the whiskey slowly disappeared, Bobby began to worry about the one remaining Winchester. He hoped that Dean would come see him and not get it into his head to either try or save Sam- again- or, failing that, take his own life in an attempt to be with his brother.

It was only when the familiar growl of the Impala filled the veteran hunter's dooryard that Bobby allowed himself to relax.

_W_

Despite knowing that Sam wouldn't be with his brother, Bobby didn't stop the old habit of checking the classic Chevy's passenger seat for the younger man.

Sighing, Bobby ran a hand over his beard. It was true then, Sam was gone.

He waited patiently until Dean got out of the car before making his own move. Striding across to the driveway and pulling the remaining Winchester into a strong hug.

Bobby blinked tears from his own eyes as the younger man began to cry. Bobby couldn't help but think back to the first time Dean had lost Sam and knew that this was somehow worse.

Back in Cold Oak, Dean had been devastated by Sam's murder and desperate to save him, but now Bobby sensed no fight in the younger man; Dean's cries were one of hopelessness and unquenchable grief.

"Come on inside, Dean," Bobby said gently and the younger man lifted his head from the old hunter's shoulder, wiping a sleeve over his eyes and followed him into the house.

Bobby sat down in one of his wing-back chairs and Dean settled onto the edge of the couch.

"Feel up to talking?" Bobby asked in a kindly tone.

Dean sniffed and nodded, "Yeah… yeah, you should know what ha-happened."

Bobby listened in silence as Dean told him everything. He found tears welling up in his eyes and didn't even notice when they rolled down his cheeks into his graying beard.

"I should have known he'd do something like this," Dean lamented, "He was just so quiet… too quiet… I didn't even think…"

Bobby just shook his head.

"I'm surprised that a demon actually did the deal," he mused.

Dean bobbed his head, "Maybe Sam pestered them enough that they just got sick of it."

The two men looked at one another for a moment before chuckling sadly.

Sobering, Bobby turned his grey eyes directly on the eldest Winchester.

"Dean," Bobby said in his best 'lecture' voice, "I know yer hurting and I know you miss Sam but you have to promise me- _promise_- that you won't go lookin' to trade yer soul for your brother's life again."

Dean looked stricken at the idea and assured Bobby that he wouldn't go making a demon deal.

"I d-don't want to st-start that cycle again," he muttered morosely, blinking rapidly, "Besides, I don't think any demon would deal now."

Bobby stood up and stretched. He gave Dean's shoulder a comforting squeeze as he walked past the younger man on his way to the kitchen.

"I know you wanted beer but I think something a little stronger is what we need," Bobby told the young man and Dean agreed.

Bobby grabbed his nearly empty bottle of Johnnie Walker and two coffee mugs and sat down on the couch beside Dean.

Exhaustion and grief had aged the young man far beyond his twenty-eight years and Bobby grimaced in sympathy as Dean took the mug of whiskey from him.

The two men sat like that for a long time, silently sipping the last of the alcohol and thinking about their lost loved one.

Dean shed a few more tears, openly seeking comfort from Bobby and the older hunter did what he could for the younger man. Bobby bit his tongue though, the usual condolences of 'he's gone to a better place' or 'he's not suffering' didn't apply in this situation and actually only brought on more pain just thinking about them. Sam was not in a better place, he was suffering and nothing Bobby said would change that. So the old hunter kept his mouth shut and hoped that at least Sam had some kind of peace knowing that his brother was still alive- would still be alive by the end of the year- because of what he'd given up.

"Bobby," Dean said, his hazel eyes still bloodshot and his face still wan, "I haven't seen you cry like this since Sam made us watch _Titanic_ with him."

Bobby scowled and cuffed the back of Dean's head playfully. He was amazed at the fact that the younger man could still crack a joke in the midst of his grief.

The light moment quickly dissipated and Dean was left staring into his empty coffee mug, perhaps recalling that reluctant viewing of _Titanic_, watching it only because his brother wanted to and claiming that at least Kate Winslet wasn't too hard on the eyes.

"I just… I can't be-believe he's gone," Dean whispered.

"I know, boy," Bobby murmured and sat quietly while waves of grief crashed anew over him and the younger man.

With the pain still relatively fresh and the grief somewhat numbed by shock, Bobby wondered what the next few days had in store for Dean. Although he loved Sam like a son, it was Dean he was truly concerned for. Bobby had lost many friends and family over the years that he thought he'd be able to just ride the grief until it faded but Dean was still young and he would doubtless be caught in it insidious undertow for a long, long time.

What Bobby didn't count on, however, was Dean's tendency to bury his pain and push forward, delving into work in order to forget.

Bobby should have remembered that one Winchester trait because the very next day it reared its ugly head.

_SPN_

Lilith nearly skipped down the hallway in her excitement, one of her most loyal minions trailing along placidly behind her.

The demon barely glanced at her surroundings. She had no interest in the expensive hardwood floors or exotic decorative rugs or one-of-a-kind paintings hanging on the walls. She walked right through the kitchen with its state-of-the-art oven, fridge with French doors, and large dishwasher without stopping. The living room was passed by without notice; the leather couch and two matching chairs, coffee and end tables, stereo system and big-screen TV sat forgotten.

As she walked toward the rear of the mansion, Lilith looked over her shoulder, taking in the other demon's passive expression.

Kincaid was a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and shrewd brown eyes. He wore an impeccably tailored grey suit and dark blue tie. His host- Vincent Beard- was a wealthy man and the father of the little girl whose body Lilith inhabited.

The demon queen was particularly pleased with their current living arrangements. She liked the mansion. It was much better than the suburban family home she had been staying at before- though Lilith couldn't deny that had been entertaining- because it was isolated from nosy humans. The mansion boasted a circular cobblestone driveway and two-car garage, a huge back yard with a tennis court, in-ground pool and flourishing gardens with trees and bushes and benches and birdbaths. The property was surrounded on all sides by miles and miles of thick old-growth forest made even denser with invading kudzu weeds.

Lilith bounced on the balls of her feet, a knowing smile crossing her features as she thought about her newest houseguest. Sam Winchester was hers. She couldn't wait to hear him scream in agony; watch him break right before her eyes. Lilith's smile turned to one of sick amusement as she imagined him begging for mercy or maybe even death.

The little girl hurried down the basement stairs, not even bothering to hold onto the handrail, her patent leather shoes thudding quietly on the carpeted floor as she walked through what she guessed was Vincent Beard's man-cave; a large open room with a billiards table and an oaken bar with bottles of pricey alcohol on display. There was also a couch and Plasma-screen TV at the opposite end of the den.

Turning down a short hallway, Lilith came to an impatient halt in front of a heavy door. Lilith didn't know what the room had been used for prior to her arrival at the mansion, but she knew that she was about to put it to good use. She waited for Kincaid while he opened the door for her and rushed inside eagerly, eyes scanning the barren room for her captive.

Lilith's eyes lit upon the far corner and she strode towards it as fast as her short legs would carry her without running.

She stared haughtily down at the figure at her feet.

"Sam," Lilith spoke in a high-pitched, eight-year old voice tinged with arrogance.

The young man was kneeling on the cold, dirty floor, two demons on either side of him, grasping his arms in their vice-like grip. Sam didn't understand why it was necessary to guard him like this, he wasn't going to try and escape. If he tried, Dean would no doubt be sent straight to Hell and Sam would be left alone. No, Sam had made a deal- however unpleasant- and he meant to see it through. Dean was worth it.

He glanced at the child wearing a frilly pink dress and white leather shoes, her brown hair held back from her face with a pretty pink bow. Despite her innocent and youthful features, Sam knew that this was no little girl. This was a monster, the most powerful and dangerous demon on Earth.

"Lilith," Sam narrowed his eyes at the demon.

The girl giggled and clapped her hands together.

"Good guess! Do you like my wardrobe?" Lilith asked and spun in a circle, the skirt of her dress flaring out.

Sam grimaced. The thought of the demon possessing an innocent child sickened him. He just hoped that the girl was asleep and unaware of what was happening.

The young man closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, Lilith was peering up curiously at him.

"What's the matter, sleepy-head?" She asked, sounding just like a little girl.

"How long is my contract?" Sam ventured. He didn't much care why Lilith had agreed to make the deal with him, he was sure he'd find that out soon enough but he felt anxious to know how long he would be forced to be here.

Lilith pouted for a moment and her host's blue eyes darkened with displeasure.

"You can leave when I say you're free to go," she told Sam, her voice suddenly cold and hard.

Sam swallowed thickly. He knew that it could be years before Lilith tired of him. If that happened, where would he go? Bobby's salvage yard? The Roadhouse? Would Dean still be alive? Would Bobby? Then again, Lilith could just as easily snap his neck like a toothpick when she grew bored enough.

Sam startled and his muscles tensed when the girl wrapped her thin arms around his middle and smiled up at him, "Oh Sam, we're going to have so much fun!"

**Author's Note:**

**1. Thanks to AlxM for helping me out getting this chapter off the ground! **

**2. Chapter title comes from a Deep Purple song of the same name. **

**3. Thanks to AlxM, sammynanci, mandancie, emebalia, Elisha68, cold kagome, nupinoop296, zelika, sarah, L.A.H.H, Souless666, BranchSuper, SamDeanLover28, ElizaT, zoneofk, mb64, doyleshuny, Samstruck, SPN Mum and Guest for reviewing.**

**4. Thanks to everyone who is following or who favourited/alerted this story.**

**5. Reviews are love.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: The Unraveling**

Bobby Singer woke the next morning blissfully forgetful of the previous day's events. For a moment he stared up at the spotty, water-stained ceiling of his bedroom, believing he resided in a world where both Winchester boys were alive and happy.

Grief crashed over the veteran hunter with such force that he felt nauseous and he had to close his eyes until the vertigo passed.

Sitting up slowly, his muscles creaking and his bones popping as he did so; Bobby ran a calloused hand down his face.

Sam was gone, dead. He'd made a deal with a demon for his big brother's soul.

Bobby sucked in a shaky breath and let it out evenly, trying to get a hold on his emotions.

"The coffee ain't going to make itself, old man," Bobby muttered to himself and stood. He found himself some clean clothes and changed quickly, making his way downstairs with a heavy heart.

He decided to let Dean sleep for a little while- Lord knew the boy needed it- and left the guest bedroom door closed as he passed by.

The kitchen was awash in buttery morning light, making the old hunter squint. Bobby sighed and glanced out the window above the sink, swearing out loud when he saw the Impala missing from the driveway.

"Balls," Bobby growled and turned away from the sight.

Storming up the stairs, the hunter's suspicion was confirmed when he pushed open the door to the guest bedroom and saw Dean's bed was untouched and his duffel bag missing: the young man had bailed.

Making his way back to the kitchen, Bobby grabbed one of his many phones and punched in Dean's cell number.

Bobby was slightly surprised when the young hunter answered quickly.

"Hey Bobby," he said tiredly.

"Don't you 'hey Bobby' me," the older man grumbled, "What the hell do ya think yer doing?"

"I found a hunt," Dean answered curtly.

Bobby sagged, "Son, give yourself some time to adjust-"

"I'm sorry Bobby but we both know that people aren't going to stop dying just because Sammy's gone," Dean answered sharply, not sounding apologetic at all.

The veteran hunter sighed, "Why don't you come on back, we can tackle this together."

There was a long pause and for a moment Bobby thought the remaining Winchester had simply set his phone down, refusing to talk to him.

"I just need to be alone right now," Dean said finally, his voice thick.

Knowing that Bobby wasn't going to convince the young man otherwise, he nodded his head and spoke, "Well, my door's always open to ya when you need it."

"I know Bobby, thanks," Dean muttered and ended the call.

Bobby stared at the phone in his hand for a moment before settling it back into its cradle. He sighed sadly and blinked his eyes rapidly, reluctant to let the tears gathering in his eyes, fall.

Pouring himself a cup of coffee, Bobby paused for a moment before adding some whiskey to the dark beverage and sat down at the kitchen table.

The hunter watched the sun crawl across the yellowed linoleum floor as his coffee grew cold, hoping that he just hadn't lost both of his boys.

_SPN_

You're doing this for Dean; Sam reminded himself as Lilith stepped back and cast an appraising eye over him.

The demon queen smiled smugly- an ugly expression on the sweet face of a child- and looked behind her at the man who had followed her into the room.

"I don't think you two have ever met," Lilith said and motioned her minion forward.

Sam narrowed his eyes at the man, he was about four or five inches shorter than the youngest Winchester and considerably older. Sam knew that that meant nothing though, the demon possessing the man would be preternaturally strong.

"This is Kincaid," Lilith simpered. The man stared down at Sam as though he was a slug and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Sam Winchester," Kincaid had a deep, resonant voice that demanded obedience and reminded the young man eerily of the inflection his father often used.

"I'd say it was a pleasure meeting you but the only one who seems very happy is the boss lady," Sam sneered. He could just imagine his brother saying the exact same thing and it gave Sam an odd feeling of comfort. He immediately regretted speaking though.

Lilith turned and backhanded him across the face. Sam's head snapped back and his lip split.

"I don't like that tone," the demon said in a low voice, "Don't talk again."

Sam spat blood onto the floor but wisely kept his mouth closed. He saw the corner of Kincaid's lip curl up in an arrogant smirk.

"Maybe you should have made him into hound chow," the man commented gamely, "He'd learn respect quickly enough in Hell."

Lilith chuckled, "You're so funny, Kincaid."

"No, he's better off here," she continued and gave Sam an endearing smile, "Besides, I've been waiting far too long to meet Sam to just let Alistair have him."

The youngest Winchester's eyes widened slightly when a flicker- Sam wasn't even sure he'd really seen it- of fear cross Kincaid's features at the mention of the strange name. Lilith apparently didn't notice or she didn't care. No, I didn't imagine it; Sam thought and grimaced when the two demons holding his arms tightened their grip momentarily.

Sam felt blood sliding down his chin from his split lip but he refused to take his eyes off Lilith. The child stepped closer to him and she brought his chin up with one small hand.

"If you're going to be a servant, you'll have to look the part, won't you?" the demon asked and although Sam did not reply, his heart rate sped up and his muscles tensed in fear.

Without any signal from his queen, Kincaid left the room, closing the heavy door behind him.

Lilith released Sam's chin and began to unbutton the flannel shirt he was wearing.

"What are you doing?" the young man asked, trying desperately to back away from the child; a futile attempt with the two demons still holding his arms.

Sam cringed when the girl leaned forward, her mouth close to his ear, "If you want to keep your tongue, I'd suggest you keep it still."

Lilith smiled when the youngest Winchester blanched and she chuckled. She glanced down appreciably at his exposed chest. She noticed the anti-possession tattoo but ignored it; Sam Winchester had made this deal of his own free will and Lilith would see that it continued as such.

Sam flinched when the door opened and Kincaid stepped back inside. It took Sam a moment to make out what the demon was holding in his hand, but once he did, the young man's eyes widened in fear. Sam opened his mouth to protest but a sidelong glance from Lilith caused his words to die in his throat.

Kincaid sauntered forward, an arrogant smile on his face. Sam wasn't looking at the demon though; his gaze was glued to the red-hot branding iron clutched in his fist.

Sam began to struggle, trying to break free from the two demons holding him as Kincaid approached slowly, prolonging his terror.

Lilith smiled up at the man, the glow of the iron reflected in her host's blue eyes. She turned to Sam and patted his cheek in a reassuring manner, "Don't worry, Sammy, it'll only hurt for a minute."

Belatedly, Sam wondered where the branding iron had come from. He could read the initials 'VB' at the end of the tool, and thought it could be possible Kincaid's host had made his fortune in the cattle industry and had the branding iron made as a souvenir.

Not that it mattered a great deal where the man had gotten the thing, all Sam cared about was that a demon now had it heated up and pointed directly at him.

The young man cried out in pain- he couldn't help it- when Kincaid touched the hot metal to the right side of his chest, just beneath the collarbone. Sam shuddered with agony and tears squeezed out from his eyes, dripping down his face.

He gasped when the iron was pulled away and he sagged in the demons' hold. Sam was panting, his breathing rapid and ragged against the pain.

Sam groaned when Lilith grabbed his bangs and tugged his head up so she could see his face, "Aww, did it hurt that much?"

Sam gulped but didn't respond in any way to the demon's question.

"And I thought the Winchesters were stronger than that," Lilith mocked and Kincaid laughed.

Sam lowered his gaze, humiliated. Dean would be so disappointed in him.

Not that Dean is ever going to know, Sam thought despondently, because I'm never going to see him again. Lilith's never going to let me go.

The young man choked out a sob at the thought and Lilith, still thinking the pain of the brand was causing the reaction, sighed in exasperation.

"Don't be such a cry-baby," she admonished but her smile told a different story. She was enjoying seeing Sam Winchester in tears.

_SPN_

Dean drowned out his thoughts with the rock music pounding through the Impala's speakers. It was all he could do not to break down.

The eldest Winchester had found a hunt in Oregon- what sounded like a rugaru- and had pointed the old Chevy's nose in that direction without a second thought.

If Dean focused on ganking monsters then he wouldn't have time to think about his baby brother.

He tried not to feel bad about leaving Bobby. The veteran hunter could take care of himself and Dean knew that all he'd do was dwell on what Sam had done if he stayed at the salvage yard.

No, he was better off doing what he did best: hunting down monsters. Dean had always found it helped him bury anything that was troubling him. He couldn't afford to be burdened with worries and problems when innocent lives depended on him. Dean could just shut away all his anxieties and focus solely on the task at hand.

He knew it probably wasn't the healthiest way to deal with stuff but it worked for him and he wasn't about to change that.

In his mind, Dean went through all the evidence he had found on the Internet the night before; the coroner's and police reports, witness statements and the testimony of friends and family as Slayer blared from the Impala's speakers.

_SPN_

Sam stared down at the Styrofoam plate Kincaid set in front of him. The mushy brown glob didn't look appetizing in the least. A raw, meaty smell drifted up from the plate and Sam's stomach clenched. He wasn't sure the slop had ever _been _food.

The young man's stomach, despite the initial nausea, growled loudly, reminding Sam that he hadn't eaten anything since lunchtime the day he'd made his deal.

Leaning forward cautiously, Sam narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the plate and reached a hand out. Taking a tiny bit on his index finger, the youngest Winchester tasted the fare.

The blood drained from his face when he realized what exactly the demon had given him and he wiped his hand off on his jeans.

Kincaid chuckled, "Dog food for Lilith's dog."

Sam felt bile rise in his throat but he swallowed it down.

"I wouldn't turn my nose up at it if I were you," the demon continued, the smirk clear in his voice even though Sam kept his gaze on the plate, "You're not getting anything better."

Sam closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath to try and calm his stomach.

Kincaid pushed the plate closer to the young man with the toe of one of his polished black dress shoes.

He heard the demon sniff, "What's wrong? Not good enough for you?"

"No, I-" Sam stopped before he could get any more out.

Oh no, he'd just spoken. Kincaid smiled wide and Sam cringed back.

Sam retreated until his back hit the wall and he held his hands out defensively. He knew he had no chance against the demon but he had to at least try.

Kincaid walked forward; Sam watched him warily.

The demon lazily raised a hand and clenched it into a fist. For a moment, nothing happened but then pain engulfed Sam's abdomen. He doubled over, hands going to his belly; it felt like his insides had been replaced with razor wire.

Kincaid grinned and clenched his hand tighter. Sam's knees buckled and he collapsed, gasping to draw breath into lungs that seemed to have forgotten how to work.

Just when Sam thought he was going to pass out the pain disappeared, leaving him weak and shaky. Raising his head, Sam saw Kincaid sneering down at him.

"That was just a warning," the demon informed him, "Next time I won't be so kind."

Dean would have given the monster his best shit-eating grin and made some raunchy comment but Sam remained silent, concentrating only on catching his breath.

Kincaid turned his back to the young man and kicked the Styrofoam plate- not hard enough to spill its contents- and sent it sliding across the concrete floor to hit the wall beside Sam.

"Better eat up," the demon said, "You don't want to work on an empty stomach."

**Author's Note:**

**1. Chapter title comes from a song by Rise Against of the same name. **

**2. Thanks to SamDeanLover28, cold kagome, avidreader33, AshleyMarie84, MysteryMadchen, Stryder2008, Samstruck, Elishab68, mb64, L.A.H.H, sarah, Jeanny, DianaLadris802, emebalia, BranchSuper, AlxM, ElizaT, and SPN Mum for reviewing.**

**3. Thanks to everyone who alerted, favourited, or is following this fanfic.**

**4. Please leave a review! **


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five: Damage, Inc. **

Dean limped slightly on his twisted ankle as he made his way to the Impala. The jug of gasoline he carried felt like it weighed a ton but he hardly noticed. He had given up the shovel he'd brought with him as lost; the spirit had thrown it at Dean's head and the wooden handle had hit a gravestone instead, breaking the shovel in half on impact. Dean made a mental note to pick up another one at the next hardware store he saw.

The eldest Winchester found it hard to believe that four months had passed since Sam's death. Dean had been back to Bobby's a couple of times but he never stayed long, he couldn't stand the old man constantly asking him how he was holding up. Dean knew Bobby was worried about him but the young hunter didn't know why. He was doing fine in his opinion; hunting down baddies and saving innocent people, like he'd been trained to do.

Sure, Dean worked most cases solo now- only occasionally teaming up with Jo Harvelle when she strong-armed him- which put him at a greater risk of getting hurt, but Dean told himself he liked working alone. Alone he wouldn't have to see his fellow hunters' sympathetic expressions or hear their continued condolences or their nagging. No, Dean decided he was better off by himself because the one person he really wanted to have as a hunting partner was gone forever and no one could make up for that.

Dean unlocked the Chevy's trunk and set the gas can inside. Before closing the lid, his gaze lingered on his brother's duffel bag, one corner poking out from underneath the emergency blanket. Reaching into the trunk, Dean tugged the blanket over the duffel, completely obscuring it from sight. Slamming the trunk lid closed, the eldest Winchester took a deep breath before making his way towards the driver's side door. It wasn't that Dean _wanted _to forget his brother- not at all- but the memories were too painful and Dean just couldn't deal with them; or so he told himself.

Turning the key in the Impala's ignition, Dean drove slowly out of the cemetery, his ankle smarting as he pressed his foot on the gas pedal.

_SPN_

Sam wasn't sure how much time had passed since he had first arrived at the mansion. There were no calendars on the walls or newspapers on the coffee tables to mark the date, the radio and television were never turned on and Sam didn't dare ask one of the demons what day it was. Sam guessed it didn't matter anyway; it would only make it worse if he knew just how long it had been since he'd made his deal.

The only thing that really mattered was that Dean was still alive.

Sam tried not to think about his brother. Sam didn't want to forget about him but the thought that Dean was _out there _somewhere, maybe driving the Impala or researching for a hunt or having a beer with Bobby, was just too painful.

Sam tried not to think about Dean because this was the one time he couldn't rely on his big brother to rescue him. Sam was sure that if Dean tried, all bets would be off and his brother would die and Sam could not live with his sibling's blood on his hands like that.

_W_

Sam should have known better. Really, he should have. Thinking back on it, he wondered how he ever thought he'd be able to get one past the demons. He was just lucky Lilith didn't go back on their deal; that was Sam's greatest fear: that he'd fuck up so badly that the demon queen would just call it off and Dean would die.

He estimated that he had been at the mansion for a few weeks, three at the most.

Sam was starving. It wasn't an understatement. Every morning Kincaid would unlock the door to the basement room with a smirk and a Styrofoam plate of dog food for the young man. At first Sam could never keep it down, he'd barely manage to swallow it before it came back up. After a few days though, Sam found that he could eat the miserable fare without a single complaint from his stomach. Not that it made things better. Sam was only fed once a day and by the end of it, he would be barely running on fumes.

Sam didn't even hesitate when Lilith demanded he make her a sandwich. It was an odd request for a demon but the young man did not question it.

If Lilith wanted a sandwich she was going to get a sandwich. She watched closely as Sam spread jam on a slice of bread with a butter knife.

Sam's hand trembled slightly as he prepared the food. His heart was nearly pounding in fear. If he screwed up he'd be punished. Even for a small mistake.

Sam thought about the first few times he'd been unable to eat the dog food Kincaid brought him and shuddered when he recalled the beatings he'd received as a result.

"Sammy!" the young man flinched when Lilith spoke up in her little-girl voice. He stopped what he was doing and waited nervously.

"I scared you!" the demon crowed, "What were you thinking about?"

Sam didn't answer right away; he wasn't going to speak and give Lilith an excuse to hurt him.

"Tell me," she said, "Don't keep secrets."

Sam swallowed, "I was… thinking about Dean."

"Do you miss him?" Lilith asked curiously.

Sam nodded.

"Well, get used to it," the demon told him and started humming absentmindedly.

Sam finished preparing the sandwich, set it on a saucer and put the knife in the sink.

"C'mon Sammy! Let's go upstairs!" Lilith said and grabbed his free hand, pulling him from the kitchen like an excited child.

Lilith's room was pink. Bright pink. The walls were painted pink, the dressers were pink, the lampshades and curtains were pink, and the sheets on the canopy bed were pink.

A name was stenciled on one wall in purple letters- MANDY- with butterfly stickers surrounding it. Plush animals and dolls covered almost every available surface. There was a small, low plastic table and three matching chairs with a miniature tea set in one corner. A dollhouse was set up beside the bed.

Sam didn't know much about Lilith's host or Kincaid's but it was obvious that the father doted on his daughter.

Lilith skipped over to the table, shoved the tea set onto the carpet and sat down. Sam put the saucer with the sandwich in front of her and stepped away.

Sam didn't know why Lilith cared whether she ate or not, he didn't think she was overly concerned with her tiny host's wellbeing. For all Sam knew, the girl- Mandy- was dead already.

Sam's gaze traveled surreptitiously around the room, careful to keep his head down. Lilith had been 'playing' with Mandy's toys. Sam saw a pile of headless Barbie dolls piled on the dresser like kindling and white fluff from a number of stuffed animals was strewn across the carpet. A carton of Crayons sat in nightstand, holding down a stack of pictures. Sam couldn't make out most of the picture on top but he saw it contained a lot of red and black and grey.

"I'm done!" Sam jumped at the sudden announcement and turned his attention to Lilith.

Head down, eyes on the carpet, Sam took the plate. Lilith hadn't eaten the crusts. Just like a little kid.

"It goes in the garbage, Sam," the demon spoke up, speaking to Sam as though he was incredibly slow.

Sam nodded and turned to the door. He could feel Lilith's eyes on his back as he walked down the hall and hunched his shoulders protectively.

In the kitchen Sam opened the cupboard under the sink and stared for a long moment at the green garbage can. His stomach let out a quiet whine and Sam stared at the saucer in his hand. Looking over his shoulder, Sam didn't see any demons. Kincaid and Lilith were nowhere in sight, nor were any of the others who called the mansion home.

A wave of vertigo passed through Sam and he used his free hand to grab the edge of the sink. Dog food once a day just wasn't cutting it. Sam had never felt so hungry before. The deep gnawing ache of an utterly empty- nearly constantly empty- stomach was becoming unbearable. Even when he'd been younger and John had disappeared for days, leaving his boys alone Sam never wanted for something to eat; Dean made sure of that.

Sam didn't consciously make the decision before he was eating the sandwich crusts as quickly as possible. The dry bread stuck in Sam's throat and for a moment he was afraid he'd choke but he managed to swallow painfully, the empty feeling in his stomach easing somewhat.

Looking back, Sam wondered how he ever thought he'd get away with it.

But Sam wasn't concerned with being found out at that moment. He set the saucer in the sink and headed back upstairs to Mandy's- Lilith's- room.

"Did you get lost?" the demon's voice asked from the other side of the bedroom and Sam ducked his head lower but didn't answer.

"I don't like waiting, Sam," the girl's voice was cold and the young man's heart skipped a beat.

Sam bit his lip to keep from speaking without permission and only making things worse. He flinched when he heard Lilith move towards him.

"Since I'm in a good mood," the demon queen said, "I'll let you off the hook."

Sam relaxed somewhat, thinking himself extremely lucky to have dodged the bullet.

Lilith went back to what she had been doing before- drawing- and Sam stood patiently, waiting.

After what Sam thought was a half hour, the little girl stood up and walked over to him, bringing a piece of paper along with her.

"I drew you a picture, Sammy," she said happy and shoved the paper at him.

Sam glanced down at the detailed sketch- far too sophisticated for a child to draw- of what appeared to be a Hellhound tearing an eerily accurate drawing of himself, to pieces.

The Hellhound- about the size of a Great Dane- had burning yellow eyes and. ash-grey fur. It was a lupine-looking creature, with sharp talons on its paws and a mouthful of jagged fangs.

The Sam Winchester rendered in pencil and Crayon was so life-like it made the young man shudder. Sam closed his eyes and felt nauseous. He let the picture fall from his hand and land softly on the carpet, face-up as though mocking him.

"That's what Dean thinks happened to you," Lilith said, "That's what _would _have happened if I hadn't interceded."

Sam wondered if he was supposed to thank the demon for her decision to keep him alive.

"I think I made the right choice, don't you?" the little girl said in a cheery voice and Sam nodded.

Lilith knew. Of course she did. She just thought it fun to make Sam think he could get away with it.

That evening Kincaid led Sam down to the basement, the ever present superior smirk on the demon's face. Sam wasn't concerned- the demon always looked like the cat that had eaten the canary- and went willingly. At least he'd get to sleep and escape for a little while.

When Kincaid didn't turn around and lock the door, Sam began to grow anxious. Something was up, he knew it.

Sam backed away from the demon until he was at the far end of the room and waited- it was all he could do.

The door opened and three more demons entered- two he recognized as Lilith's supporters- and the queen herself.

Sam's eyes widened when he saw what Lilith was holding in her small hands.

"I said you were going too easy on him," Kincaid told the demon child and Lilith sighed.

"Yes, you were right, I was wrong," she muttered but smiled as she spoke.

Lilith looked at the two burly demons who had followed her in, "Boys, bring Sam over here."

Sam tried to fight back but was quickly overpowered. The demons grabbed his arms and dragged him forward.

Lilith grinned toothily, "Apparently you were under the impression that you could break the rules and no one would notice."

Sam shook his head despite the fact that it was true.

"Oh but you did," Lilith continued. Sam shook his head but Lilith spoke, "No, no, don't deny it."

Sam lowered his head. This wasn't going to end well.

"You agreed to this, Sam," Lilith reminded him, her voice holding none of the childish cheer it usually did, "You sold yourself into slavery to save your brother's soul."

"I am simply doing what anyone would do if their slave disobeyed them," Lilith stated coldly.

Tears of fear welled up in Sam's eyes and he bit back a sob. He was such an idiot. How could he have not known Lilith would find out and punish him?

The two demons holding his arms turned him around so he was facing away from Lilith and tugged his shirt up so that his back was bare.

Sam heard the crack of the whip seconds before it hit him. He cried out in shock and pain, jerking in the demons' hold.

The young man collapsed when the flogging finally ended. He landed heavily on his side, his back felt as though it was on fire.

Lilith peered down at Sam for a moment as she coiled the whip around her arm.

"Goodnight," she mocked, "Sleep tight."

The four demons left, locking the door behind them.

Sam's face was hot and feverish, clammy from a mixture of tears and sweat. His hair was sopping and he could feel blood running down his back. Sam closed his eyes even though there was no way he would be able to sleep. Every time he moved the lashes on his back pulled, causing Sam's breath to catch in his throat as he froze, waiting for the sensation to pass.

"D'n," Sam whimpered out loud, his longing for his brother almost as strong as his physical pain.

That night was his longest since arriving at the mansion.

_W_

It had been a long time since Lilith had punished Sam over the sandwich. It hadn't been the last time Sam had been flogged, though. But it was the last time Sam had eaten human food without permission. Afterwards Sam choked down the slop Kincaid gave him like a good little doggie- the demon's words, not his- and stayed far away from the kitchen. The insatiable black hole that Sam's stomach had become always went unfilled. Sam coped with the hollow feeling and eventually he rarely noticed the constant dull ache.

Sam made mistakes- of course he did, he was only human and it was to be expected- and was punished. Lilith oversaw it all with a malicious glint in her child's eyes. Kincaid delighted in degrading him, making Sam feel less than human. The other demons- loyal followers of Lilith- went out of their way to make Sam's life as difficult as possible.

And Sam began to break. This was a nightmare that was never going to end. Lilith could keep him for as long as she desired and Sam was sure that if the demon queen had her way, the contract was never going to expire.

At least Dean's alive, Sam told himself. Dean's still breathing and that's all that matters.

Dean was still saving people from monsters. He wasn't in Hell, paying for his brother's mistake. The demons didn't get what they wanted.

No matter how many times Sam told himself those words though; they did nothing to end the pain and loneliness.

**Author's Note:**

**1. Chapter title comes from a Metallica song of the same name.**

**2. Thanks to sarah, mandancie, Stryder2008, doyleshuny, and BarkingMad98 for reviewing.**

**3. Thanks to everyone who alerted, favourited or is following this story.**

**4. Please leave a review! They make my day!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six: Head Down**

Six months after Sam's death, Dean found himself driving towards Sioux Falls. Dean wasn't sure if he wanted to see Bobby or not. But the older hunter had called him and asked if he would come over and Dean couldn't say no. He knew he owed Bobby a visit once in a while, if only to let the grizzled hunter know he was still alive.

Dean turned up the volume on the Impala's radio and Jo scowled at him from the passenger's seat.

'Honky Tonk Woman' drowned out whatever comment the young woman had been about to make.

Was it Dean's fault that she hadn't wanted to go home?

Dean had only one rule for other hunters who partnered with him- most often Jo Harvelle- and he expected it to be obeyed.

No talking about Sam.

And Jo had broken that rule. So now Dean was giving her the silent treatment. At least until his heart stopped aching and his eyes stopped pricking with tears.

The blonde hunter reached out and turned down the volume. Dean resisted the urge to slap her hand away and sighed when she turned to glare at him.

"Would you just listen to me for a moment?" she demanded; her tone both angry and exasperated.

"Oh, here we go!" Dean grumbled and rolled his eyes.

"I lost someone too, you know! I know what it's like to lose someone you love," Jo continued, "You're not the first person who's had someone die on them!"

Dean gritted his teeth and gripped the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles white.

"You can't keep doing this-" Jo began but Dean interrupted her.

"Who says you get to tell me what I can or can't do? Huh? Your Dad died when you were a little kid! You said yourself that you barely remember him! Don't try to act like it's the same thing because it's not!" the older hunter snapped, his chest constricting in grief.

Jo looked taken aback for a moment; she sucked in a deep breath before speaking again, quieter than it had been, "I still miss him, Dean."

The eldest Winchester glanced at the girl from the corner of his eye. Great, now he felt like a dick.

"Jo," he began but the young woman shook her head, "No, you're right. It's not the same."

Dean sighed and reached out to turn the volume back up, blinking back tears of anger and sadness as he returned his attention to the road.

_SPN_

Bobby watched silently as Dean guzzled down his beer. Jo Harvelle sat in the chair across from the eldest Winchester, her own drink untouched.

"Y'all wanna tell me what happened?" the veteran hunter asked even though he had an idea of what had transpired on the drive here.

"No," Both Dean and Jo spoke in unison.

Bobby sighed and rolled his eyes, "Did you at least take care of the poltergeist?"

Jo nodded. Dean didn't even react.

"Well, I made ya'll some casserole and I expect the both of you to eat it," Bobby said and gestured to the tuna casserole steaming on the stovetop.

Dean choked down the meal that Bobby had made for them, not even tasting it. Jo seemed just as listless, poking at her food with a faraway look on her face. Bobby gobbled his portion down, not wanting to prolong the torture.

He coerced both youngsters into doing the dishes for him, feigning his arthritis was acting up.

Bobby wanted the two hunters to forgive and forget- sadness didn't suit either of them- because he couldn't take the silence anymore.

_W_

The grizzled hunter sat down across from Dean at the kitchen table and handed him a beer, cracking one open for himself. Jo was in the living room, sleeping on the couch. It was late, past midnight but Dean couldn't sleep. And neither could Bobby.

At first Bobby didn't say anything; he just looked at the younger man. Dean looked years older than he should have. He had dark circles under his eyes, his face was haggard, his shoulders hunched.

The hazel eyes that once burned with love and determination were now filled with sadness and uncertainty.

God, it wasn't only Sam who had died that day, Bobby realized, Dean had died along with his brother as surely as though he'd also been torn apart by Hellhounds.

"Son… Dean, what's eating you?" Bobby asked softly.

The younger man didn't look at Bobby; he stared at the tabletop, hand clutching his bottle of untouched beer.

"It's been six months Bobby," Dean answered, his voice barely audible.

Bobby nodded, he'd been keeping track of the days, the hours. How long Sam was in Hell. He couldn't help it, couldn't stop.

"But it feels like it happened yesterday," Dean continued.

Bobby knew the feeling. He had felt the same way for a long time after Karen's death and he felt it now, with Sam's.

Bobby wondered if Dean was going to ask him when things got better but to his surprise, Dean didn't. He guzzled down half of his beer and stared straight at the older man.

"How long?" Dean asked.

"How long what?" Bobby replied, confused.

"Sam's been in Hell for six months… how long do you think it'll take before he's… before he becomes a demon?" Dean elaborated, the question sending a sliver of ice sliding down Bobby's spine.

"I don't know, son," Bobby answered truthfully. He didn't know how much torture someone could go through before they succumbed. He wasn't sure how long it would take Sam to cave. Maybe it took longer for some people than it did for others.

Sam Winchester, who was such a kind person, who had a gentle soul, might be able to hold out for longer, trying his hardest to not become a monster. But then again, his compassion might be his downfall; he might break easier than others.

Bobby shook his head. He didn't want to be thinking about this. He _shouldn't _be thinking about this.

"What are you getting at?" he asked Dean instead. If the younger man had brought the idea of Sam becoming a demon up, then he definitely had a reason for it.

Dean took a deep breath through his nose, "If Sam does end up becoming a demon… I'm not going to exorcise him. I have the Colt and there are still some bullets left. I'll… I'll put him out of his misery."

Bobby nodded, not sure if he should be surprised.

Dean finished his beer in one long swallow before standing up.

"I'll take Jo back to Ellen's in the morning," he said, changing the subject of conversation.

Bobby couldn't help but sag a little bit at the pronouncement. He hardly saw Dean now and he missed the young man's company fiercely.

"You sure?" the older hunter asked, trying to keep the disappointment from his voice.

Dean nodded, seeming not to care about Bobby's feelings, "I was on my way to a new hunt in Illinois when you called me."

Bobby nodded, "Well, I'll see you in the morning then, son."

"Yeah," Dean answered distractedly, knowing that Bobby knew him and Jo would be gone before dawn.

_W_

Later that night, as he lay awake in bed, Bobby did something he hadn't done since before Karen had died.

Bobby closed his eyes, clasped his hands across his chest and prayed.

He prayed that Dean would heal and, if not return to the young man he'd once been, at least he'd smile again.

He prayed that Sam was strong enough to withstand the tortures of Hell (however selfish the thought might be) and remain that kind, gentle young man as long as possible.

He prayed that he'd be wise enough to take whatever was thrown at him in the future and that he'd be made into a better man for all his grief.

_SPN_

The leaves were changing, their vibrant green turning to sunny yellows, warm oranges and deep crimson as the temperature dropped. Sam could see the trees outside the mansion's windows, their limbs shaking in high winds as summer slipped away.

"Slave!" Sam cringed and peered over his shoulder at the sound of Kincaid's voice.

The demon never called Sam by his name. None of them did except for Lilith.

Sam lifted his head ever so slightly, careful to avoid eye-contact.

"Come here," Kincaid said, his tone similar to that of someone scolding a disobedient puppy.

Sam moved closer- reluctantly- to where the demon stood in the front hallway and looked down at what he was pointing at.

"What is that?" the demon asked.

Someone had tracked mud and leaves in through the front door, down the hall and into the house.

Sam didn't say anything.

"Answer me!" Kincaid snapped at Sam as though he was the culprit and the young man flinched.

"M-Mud…" Sam whispered and then added, "Master."

Without even looking up, Sam knew the demon was smirking. The young man bit his lip, ashamed.

"How did it get inside?" Kincaid asked in a quiet, dangerous voice and Sam shrugged.

"You didn't see who did it?" the demon asked. Sam knew that Kincaid wasn't really angry with whoever had tracked the dirt inside, he could have cared less. Any chance he got to make Sam's life hell; he took eagerly, and reveled in it.

Sam began to shake his head again but then answered out loud, "No, Master."

Kincaid grabbed a fistful of Sam's hair and pulled his head up, "What were you doing?"

The youngest Winchester opened his mouth but nothing came out; he didn't have any answer.

The demon released Sam and the young man shied away. Kincaid shook his head as though disappointed, "I thought we had you well-trained. Apparently I was mistaken."

Tears of fear welled up in Sam's eyes so that he didn't even see Kincaid's hand before it connected with his nose.

The young man staggered back, his hands going immediately to his face as warm blood gushed down over his mouth and chin, spattering his already blood-stained shirt.

"Clean this mess up," the demon growled, his tone insulted. Sam didn't move until he heard Kincaid's footsteps fade deeper into the mansion.

Wiping his face, Sam looked down at the blood smeared across his hand. Fingers trembling slightly, Sam lowered his hand and blotted them off on his jeans. He shouldn't linger; Kincaid will really be angry if he saw Sam just standing in the hallway. Walking slowly, cautiously because every footstep sent pain jolting through his almost certainly broken nose, Sam found the mop and bucket in the mud-room just off the entrance, right across from the hallway closet. Sam took the bucket down the hallway to the kitchen to fill it up with water. The bucket had a half-empty bottle of Pine-Sol in it so Sam poured a generous amount of the pine-scented cleaner in with the water gurgling from the tap.

Sam leaned against the counter as he waited for the bucket to fill, every so often wiping blood from his upper lip gingerly.

He suddenly thought about the very first time he'd broken his nose. He and Dean had been sparring- John's orders- in the backyard of a small house their father was renting. Dean was always careful when he trained with Sam but this time his brother had been distracted by something and hit Sam in the face instead of his chest. Sam recalled the momentary shock he'd felt right before the pain. Blood seemed to spurt out from his damaged nose and Sam actually thought he was dying. And then Dean had been there, apologizing profusely and telling Sam to lean his head forward- not tilt it back- so he wouldn't choke. Dean had helped his brother back inside, joking gently, trying to keep Sam's mind off the pain. And although Dean felt terrible for hurting his brother, albeit accidently, but Sam had already forgiven him.

But Dean wasn't here this time. Sam was all alone. His big brother wasn't there to tell him stupid stories to take his mind off the pain.

Turning the water off, Sam took the bucket back into the hallway and tried not to think too much about his brother.

_W_

"Do you know what day it is, Sammy?" Lilith asked in that little girl's voice of hers.

Sam shook his head. The trees outside were almost completely barren, only a few brown, dry leaves clung to the skeletal branches underneath leaden skies. Winter was fast approaching.

"It's November second!" the demon chirped, smiling as though the date indicated a holiday or celebration.

Sam forced himself not to react adversely; that was what Lilith wanted. Instead, he smiled, telling himself that this marked six extra months that Dean had lived.

Lilith peered up at the young man, her expression confused, "I thought this wasn't a happy day."

The smile instantly vanished from Sam's face. He stared pointedly at the carpet, not meeting the demon's gaze.

"The second of November is the anniversary of your mother's death, is it not?" Lilith asked.

Sam swallowed but didn't answer.

"Burnt up on the ceiling, didn't she?" she continued, "Her own roasting flesh must have been the last thing she ever smelled."

Sam closed his eyes. He didn't want to think about this. He just wanted Lilith to stop talking.

"I think we should do something special," the girl mused, "Since it is such an important day."

Sam raised his head slightly. He could hear the smile in Lilith's voice. The young man shook his head fearfully.

What was Lilith going to do?

Sam wrapped his arms around himself protectively as the little girl approached.

"Let's go, Sammy," the demon said, sounding just like a child, and held out her hand.

The young man only hesitated a moment, afraid of angering the demon, and reached out one trembling hand.

Lilith quickly wrapped her small hand around Sam's fingers, her strong grip belying the fact that she was no child.

Sam followed Lilith downstairs into the main part of the house, the girl letting go of his hand as soon as she set foot on the hardwood floor.

Sam started shaking fearfully when he heard the distinct sound of Kincaid's footsteps.

"Are you going to join us?" Lilith asked her minion and the male demon nodded, "You know I wouldn't miss this."

Sam shrank away from the two demons, his heart hammering frantically.

"Move!" Kincaid snapped, turning to Sam and the young man cringed.

Sneering, the demon grabbed the front of Sam's shirt and yanked him forward. Sam whimpered and raised his hands as if to fend off a blow.

Lilith chuckled, "Cute. He thinks you're going to hit him."

Kincaid grunted in response and shoved Sam away from himself, "I will if he doesn't start walking."

Sam hunched over protectively and did as he was told, heading towards the basement stairwell.

He heard the soft sound of Lilith's shoes as she left them but he didn't dare look anywhere but at the floor in front of him.

Kincaid followed right behind Sam as he made his way down the stairs, one of the young man's hands gripping the railing tightly as though he didn't trust the demon not to push him.

They walked past the billiards table and expensive leather couches as though they didn't exist. The door to Sam's room stood open, the stark interior illuminated by a single naked bulb as it always was. On the threshold Sam gave a cry of surprise when an invisible force threw him across the room. The young man landed on his back and struggled to get up, panic welling in his chest when he realized he couldn't move. The demon was using his power.

Kincaid smirked down at Sam, grinning toothily.

Tears welled up in Sam's eyes as the demon bent down and pulled his shirt up, exposing his chest. Sam struggled against the invisible bonds, nearly panting with exertion and terror.

The young man's eyes flicked to the side, widening when he saw what Lilith had brought down with her.

The demon queen was looking at Sam with a 'this-hurts-me-more-than-it-hurts-you' expression, the object she held almost seeming to dwarf her tiny host body.

Sam fought even harder against his restraints, his chest heaving as he gasped for air.

"Would you like to do the honours?" Lilith asked and Kincaid nodded, his eyes flashing black for a moment in his excitement.

Taking the blow torch from the girl, Kincaid pressed the trigger and grinned happily at the sight of the blue-orange flame that spurted from the nozzle.

The firelight reflected in Sam's eyes as the demon lowered the weapon slowly, a scream of pain tearing itself from the young man's throat as the flame licked at his flesh.

**Author's Note:**

**1. Chapter title comes from a Nine Inch Nails song by the same name.**

**2. Thanks to babyreaper, avidreader33, Olive-Pizza, scootersmom, SamDeanLover28, doyleshuny, sarah, cold kagome, angeleyenc, K Hanna Korossy, L.A.H.H, BranchSuper, Jeanny, SPN Mum, Stryder2008, MysteryMadchen, Leia96 and Souless666 for reviewing.**

**3. Thanks to everyone who alerted, followed or favourited.**

**4. Every review helps Dean find Sam faster!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven: Midnight Hands**

Everything was ruined.

Dean Winchester was still alive.

He was supposed to be dead.

It had all been going so well. Dean Winchester, who sold his soul to bring his brother back from the dead, was scheduled to go to Hell within twelve months, less if he was killed sooner. Sam Winchester had tried- and failed- numerous times to withdraw his brother from his deal. Even Dean seemed intent on plunging into the Hellfire, warning his brother not to try and weasel him out of his contract.

Yes, everything was going according to plan.

Dean was going to go to Hell and break the first Seal, starting a chain of events in motion that could not be stopped.

But then Sam Winchester had made one final- seemingly futile- attempt to restore his brother's soul. No one was worried. Sam Winchester had failed in the past to have his brother's contract destroyed. Why should this be any different?

The demon agreed to deal. It was unbelievable! Unexpected, though not a complete disaster. No, all that was needed to break the first Seal was for a righteous man to draw blood in Hell. If it was Sam Winchester instead of Dean, then so be it.

Then Lilith, sly fiend that she was, did not damn the youngest Winchester to Hell. No, instead she kept Sam alive.

The demon queen knew the stakes and had agreed- or at least resigned- to them centuries earlier. It seemed though, that as the decades past, Lilith cared more for her own skin than the decimation of the human race. She knew that if destiny was allowed to play out as it had been determined so long ago, she would die. No one really paused to wonder if Lilith's actions were a result of a love for herself or the enjoyment she gained from tormenting the souls on Earth.

In one fell swoop, Lilith had ruined millennia of planning!

With no righteous man in Hell, the first Seal could not be broken. The Apocalypse could not begin.

The archangels were outraged at this catastrophe. No one knew exactly how to proceed.

Dean Winchester could not be killed; with no contract hanging over his head, his soul would ascend to Heaven.

It was unlikely that Lilith would bend under threats. Although she was only a demon, she was not easily intimidated. She would sooner let herself be killed by one of God's soldiers than take an order from one.

At a stalemate, the archangels could do nothing more than watch and wait, pretend that everything was going along accordingly. Maybe the Winchesters would surprise them; they had done so in the past, even though each of the celestial beings was loathe to admit it.

_SPN_

Castiel enjoyed watching humans. He found them to be some of the most fascinating creatures his father had created.

He was equally astonished by their capacity to hate as well as love.

The angel had been stationed on Earth- not the most desirable of posts- for a very long time and in all his centuries, Castiel found the humans never ceased to amaze him.

The horror of war always took his breath away, the sounds of the dying mixed with the crash of shield against shield or the roar of artillery fire never seemed to dull.

The music of laughter, of happy voices celebrating life, always managed to make even the worst times a little bit brighter.

The good and the bad and everything in between confused and dazzled the angel.

Castiel could see why his father had deemed humans his greatest creation. They were always overflowing with emotions. Unlike the angels, Castiel himself included, who were not designed to feel, only to do. Castiel knew what happened to angels who found emotions. It was oftentimes too much for them to handle and it always ended badly.

Castiel had seen and heard just about everything there was to see and hear on Earth. And he loved it all.

That was why he had been chosen to watch. He had always been curious about the humans and while some of his brothers and sisters felt distain for the creatures, Castiel felt intrigue. He never grew bored with watching. Even when night crept over a continent, Castiel would not move to a different locale where the sun reigned. He liked watching the humans even as they slept.

Castiel knew about the Winchesters. Of course he did. Their birth had been in the design since God had first created humans. The angel had seen the long chain that stretched out through the ages, the destiny of the two families that would come together and sire the two young men known as Sam and Dean Winchester.

Castiel had been sent to Earth not only to watch humans in general but to ensure that the Winchesters fulfilled their destiny. He had been by Mary Campbell's side as made her deal with the demon Azazel for her boyfriend's life. He had stood in Dean Winchester's nursery the day after his birth. He had watched along with John as the man's house burnt with unnatural fire.

Castiel had been there all along. Observing and reporting. Making sure that the archangels' plans were kept unsullied by any interference.

But the angel could not do anything when Sam Winchester had made his own deal. Castiel was allowed to watch but he was forbidden from action unless it was given by a direct order.

At first his thoughts had been similar to those in the minds of his superiors: the Boy with the Demon Blood would trade his soul for his brothers and break the first Seal in Hell.

The deal though, was not for a soul but for a life. Sam Winchester, although damned to a living Hell, would not become the righteous man.

Castiel did not know what to do. He had remained standing in the middle of the deserted road, surrounded by field on either side, wondering how the plan could have gone so horribly askew so suddenly.

Sam Winchester, of his own free will, had changed the path of destiny without even being aware of doing so.

Castiel watched mutely as the demon deposited the decoy in the grasses- an unfortunate young man- and disappeared. He didn't move when Dean Winchester approached, the growl of his old automobile giving him away even before the angel saw him.

Castiel had watched as Dean cried over the body of who he thought was his brother and burned the remains.

It wasn't until the Impala had vanished from the dreary road that Castiel moved.

He needed to report.

Castiel felt incredibly lost. This wasn't meant to have happened. He was the one who would free Dean Winchester from Hell after he had broken the first Seal and keep the brothers on track towards the Apocalypse.

What was he going to do now?

Castiel didn't even notice the freezing wind that cut through his vessel's trench coat as he appeared upon the summit of what the humans had named Mount Everest.

He heard the flutter of wings above the howl of the wind and turned to see Arcite.

The angel's vessel was a thin young man in his late teens with pale blonde hair and light blue eyes.

"What happened? Dean Winchester's contract was rescinded," the other angel questioned, his voice quiet.

"His brother made a deal with a demon," Castiel answered and his brother's blue eyes widened.

"The abomination is to be sent to Hell?" Arcite asked skeptically.

Castiel shook his head, "No, Samuel Winchester is living. Lilith will not kill him."

"Uriel must know of this immediately," Arcite announced and his wings flared out from where they lay against his back, visible only to Castiel.

Before Castiel could blink, the fair-haired angel was gone. He turned and looked out across the snow-covered peaks and steppes that surrounded the great mountain he stood upon.

"Castiel," the deep, rumbling voice startled the angel and he looked over his shoulder at the archangel.

"Uriel," he greeted, "It has been a long time since we've spoken face-to-face."

Arcite stood to one side, a nervous expression on his vessel's youthful face.

"Dean Winchester will not die?" the archangel asked and Castiel nodded.

"His brother made a deal with a demon that succeeded," the angel explained. He almost didn't believe it. Samuel Winchester had tried for months to prevent his brother's death only to find disappointment and now, when they were only weeks away from their goal, Lilith conceded.

"Why? Why would she agree now?" Castiel asked but Uriel ignored him.

"It is not in Hell?" the archangel asked. Castiel forced himself not to cringe at the term Uriel used to refer to the youngest Winchester.

"No," he answered, "Lilith is allowing him to live, although he has agreed to become her slave-"

Uriel interrupted, "Keep watching both of those mud-monkeys but do nothing."

"What are you going to-" Castiel began but the archangel vanished before he could finish.

Arcite peered balefully at his brother before he too, disappeared. He had the answers no more than Castiel himself did.

_W_

Castiel did as he had been ordered, as he had done for years now, and watched the Winchesters.

He watched as Dean Winchester threw himself recklessly into hunts to try and stifle his grief. He watched as the young man drank too much and spoke to his friends far too little.

Castiel could relate the human's feelings. He recalled the Great War and the devastation it had caused. Castiel remembered how many of his brothers and sisters- good angels albeit misguided- had been banished forevermore from Heaven and sent into to Pit. He remembered when his father disappeared and no one knew where He had gone. He recalled Gabriel's desertion shortly after the War.

Castiel still missed his sisters and brothers- both the dead and the exiled- and wished more than anything that events had turned out differently.

No one spoke of Lucifer or the third of their siblings who had gone with him, especially not if Michael was nearby.

Castiel wondered where his father and Gabriel had gone and if they would ever return.

Watching Dean Winchester try and drown his grief or dull it with physical pain caused by wounds obtained during hunts, Castiel wished he could tell the human that although the feeling never truly went away, it did ease with time.

But the angel could not make contact with Dean Winchester. He was forbidden from interacting with any human; his only prerogative was to watch and report.

Castiel tried not to be sympathetic to Samuel Winchester's plight. The young man- a man tainted with demon blood- had chosen his fate willingly.

The angel had seen how cruel humans could be to one another over the centuries, he had witnessed some of the most horrific tortures ever conceived by mortal minds and yet… and yet…

As the days turned to weeks and the weeks to months Castiel felt his heart going out to the young man.

Samuel Winchester- the Boy with the Demon Blood- who most nights cried himself to sleep, curled up protectively; Samuel Winchester, who called out his brother's name while in the midst of a nightmare; Samuel Winchester, who shrank away from any raised voice or hand; Samuel Winchester, whose only crime was that Azazel had poisoned him with demon blood while he was still a swaddling infant.

Castiel found himself only watching the youngest Winchester for only a few moments at a time, uncomfortable with long visits. He preferred Dean Winchester's sadness to Samuel Winchester's terror.

After many months passed with no word from above, Castiel began praying that the archangels would come to some sort of decision. This separation was killing the Winchesters.

Castiel knew he could not intervene with humans but watching Dean continue to grieve over a dead body that was not even his kin's and Sam live in a constant state of fear was becoming unbearable.

The angel almost didn't believe it when he was given permission to act for the Winchesters. Uriel's instructions were to be followed exactly and although they did not give Castiel a great amount of freedom, the lesser angel was happy to simply help the Winchesters in any way.

**Author's Note:**

**1. Chapter title comes from a Rise Against song of the same name.**

** to cold kagome, MysteryMadchen, avidreader33, Elisab68, Stryder2008, angeleyenc, L.A.H.H, murphy9202, sarah, babyreaper, Olive-Pizza, SamDeanLover28, BranchSuper, Leia96, mandancie and Guest for reviewing.**

**3. Thanks to everyone who alerted, followed, favourited.**

**4. So, this chapter didn't have ANY Sam or Dean in it. Sorry. But I wanted to talk a little bit about what the angels were doing now that Sammy had thrown a wrench in their plans. I also kind of gave Cas a whole new history. I am pretty sure that his first time on Earth- at least, in a long time- was when he rescued Dean from Hell in the show. I just started writing about Cas and he wanted to be on Earth, watching humanity, so I was like, 'sure, who can deny everyone's favourite angel, right?'. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Don't worry. We'll get back to Dean and Sam in the next one.**

**5. Please leave a little something in the S.O.S (Save Our Sam) fund. **


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight: The Death and Resurrection Show**

Dean let himself into his motel room and dropped his duffel bag onto the floor at the foot of the bed closest to the door.

He had had an unsuccessful day of talking to the witnesses of a supposed possession. No one had been very helpful; reluctant to speak to Dean even though he had been dressed as a Federal agent. Dean couldn't really blame them though, they were scared.

Every time the eldest Winchester caught wind of demon activity his heart clenched in his chest. Since he'd voiced his fears to Bobby months ago, Dean couldn't help but wonder if the next possession he investigated would be related to his brother. He feared that every black-eyed son of a bitch he came across was in fact Sam, his soul tortured and twisted into something unrecognizable and evil.

Though Dean knew what he would do if- or when- he met his brother again, the thought of shooting Sam, even if was to end his suffering, terrified him. Dean tried not to imagine what it would be like to kill the kid he'd practically raised by himself, the kid who'd always looked up to him to take care of him and keep him safe, the kid who'd only been trying to do the right thing, even if the packaging was different. It would still be Sam in whatever poor sap he'd chosen to possess, or at least some semblance of Sam, however small.

Shaking his head, Dean opened up the motel room's miniature fridge and grabbed a beer. He loosened his tie, shrugged off his suit jacket and sat down at the table. Pulling his cell phone from his pants pocket, Dean saw that he had several missed calls. The majority of them were from Bobby- no surprise there- but there were two from Ellen, one from Jo and a half-dozen from various hunters he'd partnered with temporarily in the months since his brother's death.

Dean set his phone face down on the table so he could enjoy his beer in peace.

The motel room was quiet. No clatter of a laptop keyboard, not whining from a pain-in-the-ass little brother, no rock and roll shouting from the small clock radio on the nightstand. Sirens and the _whirr _of car tires filtered through the thin walls of the room but they all but went unheard by its single occupant.

Dean was thinking about his last words to his brother and how pathetic and _thoughtless _they had been. He couldn't help it; those words haunted him. Instead of saying something meaningful he'd acted as though nothing had been wrong, as if he wasn't about to meet the same fate as Sam in a few day's time. He guessed it was stupid to be worried about something so stupid, it wasn't like he'd had a fight with Sam before he'd left but it amounted to the same thing in Dean's mind.

He'd told Sam not to forget the pie. Again.

That was all the farewell he'd given his baby brother before Sam went out to make his deal. Christ, with all that was happening Dean could have said something better than 'Don't forget the pie, Sammy.'

Dean stared at his empty beer bottle and stood up to get another.

Whoever said that time healed all wounds was a liar.

It only seemed to grow worse as the days passed. The longer Dean spent alone, without his brother, the deeper the wound seemed to become. Alcohol seemed to numb the pain for a little while but nothing made it go away completely.

Tossing the cap of his fresh bottle of beer into the trash can, Dean sat back down at the table. He guessed he should call Bobby soon or the old man would start to worry.

Later, Dean thought and drank deeply from his bottle.

_SPN_

Sam curled up as tightly as he could into the far corner of his room. Every breath he drew was painful. His eyes were closed fast as he tried to slow his pounding heart.

Kincaid had beaten him- punishing him for what, the young man didn't know- in a fit of rage. Sam couldn't even remember doing anything wrong. Perhaps the demon just wanted someone to take his anger out on.

Sam raised one shaking hand and wiped at his eyes. He was exhausted but the pain in his ribs prevented him from even thinking about sleep.

Instead, to try and distract himself from his aching body, Sam thought about his brother.

Sam tried to imagine what Dean was doing. Was he hanging out in a motel room watching one of those old action movies he liked? Was he flirting with a pretty waitress at a bar, hoping to get lucky? Dean could have been at Bobby's; playing cards with the old hunter or helping him fix up a car.

A pang of loneliness coursed through Sam and he choked back a sob that was attempting to escape. He bit down on the knuckles of one hand, hard, to try and quell his emotions. Unsuccessful, Sam shook as tears streamed down his face, pattering onto the concrete floor beneath him.

Sam wanted his brother. He wished he could have been able to see Dean just once more. He had been denied the time to say goodbye to the only family member he had left.

Not that Sam deserved it.

He was a slave. He was nothing.

"Dean," Sam whimpered so quietly the name was almost inaudible.

Crying hurt but Sam couldn't stop. The last time he had seen Dean; his brother had been sitting on one of the beds in their motel room, staring at the television screen. The last words Dean had spoken to Sam were to remind him about the pie. Sam remembered how he'd rolled his eyes and told Dean that he'd get his pie. Sam wished he had said something else. He wished he hadn't left Dean in the dark about what he'd been about to do. Sam hadn't even dared to utter very sincere parting words for fear that Dean would become suspicious and try to stop him.

Sam knew it didn't matter now. What's done was done and there was no going back. He could not- would not- go back on his deal. If Dean could face an eternity of Hell without even batting an eyelash then Sam would endure his servitude.

Dean deserved that much.

Dean shouldn't be punished for Sam's mistake.

The world was a far better place with Dean in it, even if Sam never saw that world.

_SPN_

Bobby rubbed tiredly at his eyes and glanced at the clock above the fireplace. It was getting late but he didn't want to go to sleep. Not just then.

Dean had promised to get in touch with him and the veteran hunter did not want to miss that call.

The eldest Winchester hardly spoke to Bobby at all now. Ever since his brother's death, the young man had drifted farther and farther away from his friend.

Bobby didn't know what to do. Every time he mentioned how little Dean came by, the young man grew defensive and angry. Dean accused him of coddling, of hovering too much, not giving him enough space.

Bobby knew that Dean just didn't want to have to think about Sam.

The old hunter knew well what Dean was going through. He himself had acted the same way after his wife's death. He hadn't wanted to see any of _their _friends because they only brought up painful memories and had donated most of Karen's clothes and personal effects to charities, unable to stand them being in the house.

For ages, Bobby had isolated himself from everyone who cared about him because it was easier than facing his own pain.

And that was exactly what Dean was doing now.

Over the months since Sam's death, there were many times when Bobby just wanted to grab Dean and shake the boy to try and knock some sense into him.

He knew that tactic wouldn't work. It wouldn't have worked with him either. The only thing that had finally cracked the shell he'd created was the sight of a distraught young father by the name of John, pleading with him to teach him about monsters and trailing two young sons behind him.

Bobby shook his head and sighed, closing the book he was reading.

Dean had always wanted so much to be like his Daddy and now he seemed to be fulfilling that childhood dream. He too was obsessed with the death of someone who had been very near and dear to his heart.

Only this time there was no one to pin the blame on because, in reality, the fault was Sam's.

Sure, the Crossroads demon had agreed to the deal, but it was the youngest Winchester who had persisted, persevered and been irritating enough to actually meet with success.

Lilith herself might hold the contract, as she held Dean's not so long ago, but she was a formidable adversary and not even the eldest Winchester could go toe to toe with her and live to tell the tale.

Sam had known what he was doing, knew what he was in for when he'd made that deal. Bobby didn't blame the boy, how could he, even though he thought he'd done a damn stupid thing. All Sam had been trying to do was save his brother, just as Dean had saved him.

It was like something from Shakespeare, Bobby thought.

But without any villain to take revenge on, Dean was directionless, lost. He had no way to channel all his anger and grief.

He hunted but that wasn't the same. Dean was not hunting the monster responsible for his brother's death. He could kill all the beasties out there and still be unsatisfied.

Bobby was pretty sure that Dean knew as well as he did that Sam had had a hand in his own demise and those demons involved had merely been pawns.

Although Bobby was aware that demons had their own agendas, no one was forcing them to make the deal. Previously Sam had been spurned in all of his attempts to get Dean released from his contract.

Now Bobby worried that Dean's anger and frustration would get him killed.

He grew concerned if he didn't hear from the young man on a regular basis. Bobby didn't expect Dean to pour his heart out to him over the phone or describe every mundane detail of his hunts but he appreciated a polite 'hello' and maybe an occasional 'how are you?'.

The shrill ringing of a phone caused Bobby to jump in his seat and he raced into the kitchen, grabbing one phone labeled 'Singer Salvage' from the half-dozen lined up on the wall.

"Dean?" Bobby asked, slightly out of breath, "That you son?"

"It's me," the younger man answered, much to his friend's relief.

"How you doing?" Bobby asked and cringed, knowing that Dean was likely to deflect the question.

"Fine," the young hunter answered, "The motel beds still feel like they're made of granite and the diner food still tastes like cardboard but I'm not complaining."

"You on a hunt?" Bobby asked, knowing Dean would open up to that line of questioning more eagerly than he would about queries about his personal welfare.

"Uh huh," Dean muttered and Bobby lifted an eyebrow at the tone he heard over the phone, "What is it?"

"Might be demons," Dean answered, sounding both exhausted and sheepish.

Bobby leaned against the kitchen doorframe and wiped his free hand over his face, "Electrical storms? Sulfur?"

"There were storms but I haven't traced any sulfur," Dean answered, "And no one is talking about smelling it either."

"Could be a ghost," Bobby suggested.

He heard a rustle on the other end of the line and realized that Dean was shaking his head.

"I don't think so," Dean spoke, "Not with the victims… not with the way they were killed."

Bobby bit his lip. He wanted to ask Dean if he wanted help, wanted to demand the young man allow him to help, but Bobby knew that it would be ill-advised. Dean would ask for his assistance if he needed it and not before.

"Alright," he sighed, "Just keep your head, you hear me?"

"Yeah, Bobby," Dean mumbled.

"I mean it," the veteran hunter growled.

"Listen, I'm kind of busy right now… research, you know… so if that's all you wanted to talk to me about…." Dean said and Bobby sighed.

"Go on," he surrendered, "But if I don't hear from you in-"

"I know, Bobby," Dean interrupted, exasperated, "You'll come here and break your foot off in my hind parts."

Bobby almost smiled, would have smiled, but there was no humor in the younger man's voice. It was dull and emotionless, tired. Bobby was really starting to hate that tone.

Before he could reply, there was a click and the line went silent.

Bobby set the phone back in its cradle and remained where he was for a long moment. He was really starting to consider which one of them would end up sleeping in a pine box first.

Shuffling into the kitchen, Bobby grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels from the cupboard above the stove and poured some into a coffee mug.

The veteran hunter stood there for a long time, in front of the oven, in his ageing kitchen, without really seeing it, sipping at his whiskey without really tasting it, thinking about the small, freckled boy he'd met all those years ago who had cradled his baby brother to his chest and told the infant that he would protect him for whatever came their way.

_SPN_

Months passed by in a blur of hunts and motel rooms and bars and diners.

Dean hardly knew what day of the week it was anymore.

He knew things were getting worse, that he was slowly but surely losing control but he didn't care. Sam was gone; his purpose for living was no longer alive.

Dean's heart was no longer in the hunt. He continued only because it was the only thing his was truly skill in. He really didn't even care about the people he was saving anymore. All he wanted to do was kill the monster and get the hell out of Dodge.

He no longer felt like the hero.

The more he thought about the night of his brother's death the more he resented him. Of course Dean still loved his brother, how could he not? But he also felt a certain hatred for the kid.

He had saved Sam and that was that. There was no weaseling out. That was what the Crossroads demon had said.

But Sam had gone and thrown everything Dean had done for him back in his face. As if Dean's sacrifice meant nothing to him.

Why'd you have to go and do it, Sammy? Dean wondered.

Dean still loved his brother and missed him. He felt guilty for letting Sam leave that night, he couldn't believe that he hadn't seen anything in his brother's face or heard it in his voice that would tip him off.

He had tried so hard to make his last year with Sam a good one but instead of being happy, his brother had only thought of saving him at every turn.

Dean loved Sam for that and hated him too. Why couldn't Sam ever let things go?

As winter turned to spring and spring into summer, Dean continued to go through life- the life his brother had given back to him- on autopilot.

He knew it was not what Sam would have wanted for him but Sam was gone and he was never going to come back.

_SPN_

Sam stared despondently at the floor.

"Cheer up, Sammy!" Lilith exclaimed but the young man didn't even react.

The small demon walked forward and tilted her head up so that she could look into Sam's face, "What's wrong?"

The young man didn't answer.

Lilith reached out and placed a small hand on Sam's pant leg.

"Sam," the demon spoke again, "Look at me."

The young man, trembling with fear, did as he was ordered and lifted his head.

Lilith smiled. Sam's face was pale and thin, his expression full of pain and uncertainty. There was no trace of the hatred that Lilith had seen when she'd first met the hunter. Although Sam Winchester was a spirited young man, he was only human and humans could only endure so much before they cracked. .

Sam quickly looked away from the demon's penetrating gaze.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Sammy," Lilith said, "You did what I told you to."

The young man nodded.

Lilith smirked.

And Kincaid had wanted to feed him to the Hellhounds.

_W_

As the months went by, Lilith continued to watch Sam's deterioration progress. It was truly remarkable. The demon was actually very proud of her work. She knew she'd kept Sam alive for a reason.

Lilith was shocked at how much the young man had changed. She didn't even think Dean would recognize his brother if he saw him.

One morning in early May Lilith went down to Sam's room along with Kincaid. She unlocked the door, turned on the light and stepped inside. The young man was curled in a ball in the corner of the room, fast asleep. Kincaid scowled at Sam as though he were a particularly disgusting insect but said nothing.

"Sammy!" Lilith called and the young man startled awake, looking around wildly for a moment before dropping his gaze.

"Do you know what day it is?" the demon asked but Sam made no reply.

"It's May second! Your birthday," Lilith continued in a cheerful tone.

Sam's only response was to start shaking fearfully. He was probably thinking about what had happened on the last special occasion the demon had been excited about.

Yes, Sam Winchester had sold himself into slavery and Lilith had been more than happy to deliver.

She smiled at the small whimpers of fear Sam was making and stepped forward, a maniacal grin on her childish features.

_SPN_

Dean stared unseeingly at the rows of bottles and glasses across from him at the bar. He was already on his fourth beer and knew that it'd take a few more to draw him into a blissful haze.

It was May second. Sam's birthday. The one-year anniversary of his death.

Dean drained his bottle of beer and gestured to the bartender for another one.

It was going to be a long, long night.

_W_

Dean, feeling no better for all the alcohol he'd consumed, drove slowly back to his motel room.

He didn't know what he was going to do. He really should call up Bobby; it had been a while since he'd spoken to the old man.

Letting himself into the motel room, Dean sighed and raked a hand down his face. He really felt like shit and all he wanted to do was sleep for a few hours and not think about his baby brother.

Dean went into the bathroom and turned on the tap, rinsing his face with the cold water before drying off with a towel. He tossed the towel onto the counter beside the sink, turned to walk out and nearly collided with the man standing in his way.

"Dean Winchester," the intruder said in a gravelly tone.

Instead of replying, Dean grabbed the flask of holy water he always carried around with him now from his jeans pocket and splashed the liquid right in the man's face.

Nothing happened.

"I am not a demon," the stranger said calmly.

"Give me your hand," Dean demanded, brandishing a silver knife.

The man did not comply but simply said, "I am not a shapeshifter either."

Dean squinted at the guy. He was short and nerdy, with disheveled black hair and large blue eyes. He wore a tan trench coat over a white dress shirt and black tie. Glancing down, Dean saw black dress pants and shoes.

"Who are you?" he asked dumbly.

"My name is Castiel," the stranger said in his odd gravelly voice, "I am an angel of the Lord."

Dean blinked for a moment and then burst out laughing. An angel? Someone was pulling his leg.

"Yeah, right," Dean chortled, "And I'm the President."

The man- angel- whatever he was tilted his head, "I believe the current President of the United States is George W. Bush."

The reply only caused Dean to laugh harder. Was this guy for real?

"Are you a friend of Bobby's?" Dean asked once he had gotten himself under control.

"Bobby?" the man asked, "Do you mean Robert Singer? I am not a friend of his but I-"

Dean pushed past the guy and ran his hand through his hair, "Why are you here? How did you get inside? I thought I locked the door…"

Dean turned to check the door as he spoke and his words died in his throat when he saw that both the deadbolt and sliding lock were still engaged.

Dean grabbed his gun from where his duffel sat on his bed and pointed it at the intruder.

"Are you a demon?" he growled threateningly.

"You are already aware that holy water does not affect me so why-" the man was cut off when Dean pulled the trigger.

Castiel did not even stagger. He simply stared down at the bullet hole in his dress shirt and his eyebrows furrowed.

"I am not an enemy, Dean," he said quietly.

"Move and I'll shoot again," the hunter threatened, shaken somewhat that the man was still standing.

"I am not here to harm you," the man held his hands up in the international gesture of surrender, "I promise you."

"What do you want?" Dean asked without lowering his gun.

"Your brother, Samuel, he is not dead," Castiel said and Dean felt as though he'd been punched in the gut.

"What?" he asked, stunned.

No, this stranger was wrong. Sam was dead. Dean had seen his body, burned it himself.

"Samuel is not in Hell as you have been led to believe," Castiel elaborated.

"How do I know you're not lying?" Dean asked, the hand holding the gun was trembling slightly.

"I can… show you," the man took a step forward, "If you'll permit me."

Dean nodded, "Don't try anything funny."

The man's stoic expression did not change. He walked up to Dean and raised one hand, placing it gently but firmly against the hunter's brow.

"What's supposed-" Dean began but his words were cut off abruptly as the old country road appeared before his eyes, the motel room dissolving into nothingness.

_Dean stared wide-eyed at his surroundings. It was dark but Dean recognized where he was: The place where Sam had made his deal. He saw the Impala's tail-lights burning red a few feet ahead of him and could make out the shape of his brother sitting in the driver's seat. Dean made to go forward, to catch up to his brother and stop him but he was unable to move. He was frozen in place. A spectator and nothing else._

_ "Sammy!" Dean cried but his brother did not react. _

_ He watched helplessly as Sam got out of the Impala and turned around, staring at something inside the vehicle with a sad smile on his face._

_ "Sam! No! Don't do this!" Dean called but Sam remained oblivious. _

_ He struggled to move- if only to take a single step forward- as Sam walked around to the trunk of the Impala and gathered the things he would need to summon a Crossroads demon._

_ "Sam! Please! Listen to me! Sammy!" Dean tried again, knowing it was futile. All he could do was watch his brother go through the motions as though a movie was playing before his eyes._

_ Sam crouched down in the middle of the four intersecting roads and began digging a shallow hole with his hands. Dean felt a lump form in his throat when he saw his brother wipe his sleeve across his eyes and stood, waiting._

_ "No, Sammy," Dean begged, "Don't do this, please. Go back now. Get in the car and come back."_

_ Dean startled when the Crossroads demon appeared out of thin air. She was certainly a beauty- ivory skin and flaming red hair- but Dean wanted to wrap his hands around her throat and strangle her._

_ Dean smiled at the demon's reaction to the sight of his brother. _

_ "What part of 'your brother's Hellhound chow' don't you understand?" the woman hissed and turned to leave._

_ Dean's heart skipped a beat. Maybe she would leave and Sam would come back!_

_ "Wait!" Sam cried and reached out to stop the demon._

_ Dean could barely breathe as he listened to Sam practically beg the bitch to tear up his contract._

_ He was shocked at how determined Sam was. Even knowing that he would surely die if his brother's contract was destroyed, he seemed to accept it._

_ "Oh no Sammy, no," Dean whispered as he listened to his brother try and barter with the demon, vying for as little as an hour to live until the Hounds tore him to pieces._

_ Once the demon decided to go speak to her superiors and left Sam alone, Dean tore into his brother, regardless of whether the younger man could hear him or not._

_ "What are you doing, Sam?!" Dean snapped, "Get out of there! Leave this alone!"_

_ The Crossroads demon reappeared, startling both brothers._

_ Dean felt his heart break for his brother when Sam's eyes grew wide in astonishment, his mouth forming an 'o' of surprise when the demon told him that it had all worked out._

_ "Sammy… what did you do?" he asked sadly. He wanted to turn away, close his eyes but he knew he had to watch this._

_ Dean's confusion mirrored his brother's when the demon explained that he was not bound for Hell._

_ But what about the body? Dean wondered, it looked like Sam…_

_ The eldest Winchester knew something was wrong. This wasn't how demons worked. They were in it for the souls; he had never heard of any demon demanding anything else as payment._

_ Dean leaned forward eagerly when the Crossroads demon told Sam that she would explain what had transpired between her and her superiors._

_ "I know you were hoping to get the grand tour of Hell," the demon smirked, "But Lilith had other plans and you know nobody's going to argue with her."_

_ What was that bitch up to? Dean wondered, why would she go back on my deal now? _

_ "You're familiar with the idea of indentured servitude, right?" the Crossroads demon asked and Dean felt his heart drop beating._

_ Oh my God. The rest of the demon's words were drowned out by Dean's cries._

_ "Don't do it Sammy! Please! Run away now! You can still get out of this!" he shouted at his brother futilely._

_ "When does my contract start?" Sam asked; Dean could hear his voice tremble slightly as he strove to sound confident._

_ "As soon as we kiss, Sweetheart," the demon replied smugly._

_ "You touch him and I'll kill you!" Dean snarled at the woman who was just as unheeding of his words as Sam was._

_ "Alright," Sam whispered, voice determined and his expression one of acceptance._

_ "Sammy," Dean breathed, "Don't do it… please…"_

_ He watched as the Crossroads demon stepped forward and raised her arms so that her wrists rested on Sam's broad shoulders. Sam ducked his head down and closed his eyes as they kissed. _

_ The demon pulled back first, a satisfied look on her face. With his brother's back to him, Dean couldn't see Sam's expression and was glad for that._

_ Dean watched the demon put her hand on the back of Sam's head, inclining it down towards her face as she whispered something too low for him to hear._

_ Seconds later, both Sam and the Crossroads demon had vanished into thin air. Dean felt his knees grow weak and threaten to buckle. _

_ He sucked in a shaky breath and only then noticed he had tears drying on his cheeks._

_ Sam was gone. Again. _

_ The world shifted, blurred as if it was fast-forwarding and Dean felt his stomach protest the unusual motion._

_ When everything grew still once more, Dean saw that he was still in the same place as before. The Impala sat as if forgotten in the middle of the road but he knew that hardly any time had passed. _

_ What was happening now? He wondered sadly. _

_ Dean startled when the Crossroads demon walked out of thin air, followed by one of the ugly and horrific creatures he had ever seen._

_ The beast was large; the size of a draft horse but it had a distinctly lupine form. Its hairless skin was black with what looked like patches burnt off to reveal the bone and muscles beneath, its eyes looked as though someone had simply stuck two pieces of burning embers in its massive head. Its upright, triangular ears were tattered and swiveled constantly as though to pick up the slightest noise. The ground sizzled wherever the creature stepped, the gravel of the road hissing and turning red-hot, the grass of the field singeing immediately and dying._

_ It's a Hellhound, Dean realized, shocked. That thing is a Hellhound. No wonder anyone who sees them are terrified out of their minds._

_ Dean's gaze traveled from the creature's large, talon-tipped paws to its head once again and saw that the beast was holding something in its jaws._

_ The Crossroads demon paused in the middle of the field that had gone completely silent. Not even the crickets chirruped in the presence of the demonic hound. _

_ The creature released its burden and Dean felt his bile rise when he saw it was a man. The body flopped limply into the grass. The demon carefully rolled the corpse over and maneuvered the limbs into the position they had been in when Dean had first seen them: legs pinned beneath the body as if the man had fallen where he stood, hands clenched and raised to his face as though he'd been trying to fend off an attack. The man's face was a ruin, underneath the bone-deep bite marks. His chest was laid open, his flesh shredded and his bones snapped. Dean closed his eyes for a moment as he remembered coming across the very same body a year ago._

_ Taking a deep breath, Dean opened his eyes once more and saw the demon reach out and pat the Hellhound's snout. _

_ "Not even his own mother would be able to recognize him now," the demon smirked._

_ The hound groaned lowly in pleasure and a long, pointed, black tongue lolled out from its mouth._

_ "Now all we have to do is see if it fools that idiot Winchester," the woman told the Hellhound._

_ The demon and Hellhound seemed to dissolve as the motel room came back into focus._

Dean staggered away from Castiel and pressed the palm of his hand to his forehead, eyes narrowed in pain.

"Are you well?" the stranger asked emotionlessly.

"What… what was that?" Dean managed to ask before he collapsed onto the end of the bed, his head throbbing with pain.

"I apologize," Castiel said, "I did not know the experience would be so jarring."

"No," Dean muttered, the headache already seeming to dissipate with each passing second, "I mean… did that really happen? That was real, wasn't it?"

"Yes," the angel replied, "That is how Sam's deal unfolded."

"I was there!" Dean exclaimed, sitting up and moaning when the pain flared in his head, "I was right there!"

"No," the stranger corrected, "I was simply showing you what had occurred in the past. You were no more there than you are involved in a film reel you watch. I know you tried to communicate with your brother but that was impossible. You were simply seeing shadows of past events."

Dean paused for a moment, "So you're like the Ghost of Christmas Past?"

The man tilted his head again, "I do not understand what you are talking about."

"Never mind," Dean muttered, "But that wasn't some kind of trick… Sam's… he's still alive?"

"Yes," Castiel answered, "Lilith really did exchange your soul for your brother's servitude."

The angel stepped back when Dean jumped up from the bed and began to pace.

"How could I have been so stupid?! That guy… that wasn't Sam! I should have known!" Dean berated himself.

The angel's expression turned sympathetic, "It is not your fault. The demons were very clever. They never meant for you to know what happened to Sam."

Dean paused and glanced at the stranger, "So Sammy's been alive this whole time?"

Castiel nodded.

He tensed when Dean approached him and grabbed his shoulders tightly, "You have to help me get him back! You said you're an angel so you can rescue him, can't you?"

The black-haired man appeared shocked by Dean's reaction.

"Yes, that is why I have come," he said "I will help you retrieve your brother."

The hunter turned away from the man and began packing his duffel bag.

"What are you doing?" the angel asked.

"I'm coming with you," Dean answered and threw his toothbrush and toothpaste into the open bag without looking.

"What? What is it?" Dean asked when the man's brow furrowed.

"It is dangerous," he said calmly, "Lilith is a very powerful-"

"Screw Lilith!" Dean snarled, "I'm not afraid of her."

"You should be," the angel replied.

Dean narrowed his eyes at the man, "What are you saying?"

"Lilith is unlike any demon you've encountered before," Castiel said, "She will not give Sam up without a fight."

Dean wasn't convinced. Azazel had been strong too but he had been felled by just one bullet.

"I can take her," the hunter said confidently, "I have the Colt."

"No!" the angel exclaimed; raising his voice for the first time, "The gun will not kill Lilith."

Dean frowned, "Okay… than how do we gank her?"

"I will deal with the demons," the angel said vaguely.

Dean shrugged, "Alright, if you're sure."

"This is not a game," Castiel admonished.

"I know," Dean grumbled, "I just want Sammy back."

"I understand," the angel said softly.

Dean turned away from the strange man and continued packing his effects, suddenly quiet and pensive.

He couldn't believe that his brother had been alive this whole time. Dean felt guilty that he had fallen so easily into the demons' trap and had accepted his brother's death. He knew that demons were conniving bastards but at the sight of that mangled corpse, all logic, all John Winchester's teachings had flown away, leaving Dean with only his feelings of grief and sadness instead.

I'm so sorry, Sammy, Dean thought as he zipped up his luggage and grabbed his jacket, slipping it on over his shoulders, I'm coming to get ya.

_SPN_

Castiel knew he was taking a huge risk in bringing Dean Winchester with him but he could not deny the man.

He thought that it would be better for Samuel if he saw his brother instead of just some stranger.

Dean grabbed the keys to his automobile and looked expectantly at the angel, "So you going to give me directions or what?"

Castiel almost smiled.

"We do not need to take your vehicle," he said, "I can take us to your brother much faster."

"Uh… how? Do you have a rocket ship hidden in that coat of yours or something?" Dean asked with a smirk but the angel did not return the gesture.

"I can travel to any location with but a single thought," the angel explained and saw confusion dawn on the human's face.

"I believe that it is fairly similar to the idea of teleportation you use in science fiction literature," Castiel tried to explain.

"Ah… uh huh," Dean nodded but he clearly did not understand.

Castiel reached out a hand towards the young man, "I will not hurt you."

Dean allowed the angel to press his fingers against this brow and Castiel instantly imagined the mansion where Sam Winchester was being held prisoner.

The angel landed lightly on his feet in the living room but the human staggered to one side and almost collapsed. Castiel quickly reached out and grabbed Dean's jacket to prevent him from falling.

Castiel watched grimly as the human put his hands on his knees and took a few deep breaths. Turning his attention from Dean, Castiel surveyed the mansion, using his powers to pinpoint the locations of the demons.

He knew he was not allowed to kill Lilith- she was still useful- but Uriel had had no qualms about sending her back to the Pit. She was strong; she would claw herself back up soon enough anyway. The other demons, Lilith's loyal followers, could be destroyed.

Castiel closed his eyes and his power flared out, reaching into every room of the large house, seeking out each and every demonic spirit that was not the Lilith and annihilating it.

"Hey," a voice caused the angel to open his eyes, "What are you doing? Meditating or something?"

"Be silent," the angel snapped, "Lilith is still here."

The young man immediately closed his mouth and glanced around the living room suspiciously.

Unfortunately Castiel would need to come in direct contact with the demon queen in order to exorcise her.

The only positive was that Lilith almost certainly knew that they were there and would defend her territory.

"Where is she?" Dean whispered cautiously, stepping anxiously from foot to foot.

"I seek her out," Castiel told the hunter, "Your brother is being kept in the basement."

Dean nodded and headed out of the living room without looking back.

Castiel concentrated on the demon queen's location and appeared in the bedroom of the little girl.

Lilith looked up at the angel, her expression holding no surprise whatsoever.

"I wondered when one of you winged-monkeys would come for me," she said in a child-like voice, "Are you going to kill me now?"

The angel shook his head, "You will not die this day."

Lilith grinned, "Don't I feel special."

"Stand, fiend," the angel demanded and Lilith stood, smoothing out her dress as she did so.

"I'll get out again," she commented casually.

"That is not my concern," Castiel said.

Lilith chuckled, "No, I suppose it isn't. You just follow orders like a good little soldier, right?"

Castiel stepped forward, raising his hand.

"Tell me, how angry were all your friends when Sam Winchester agreed to my terms?" Lilith smirked.

Castiel said nothing. He concentrated his power, preparing to banish the demon.

"You know, even when you rescue poor little Sammy, the contract still holds," Lilith taunted, "Even when you exorcise me, that deal doesn't go away."

Castiel paused. This sounded as though it was important, something he should keep in mind and report back to Uriel when the time came.

"As long as I'm alive," Lilith continued, grinning sardonically, "Sammy's mine. You see he didn't read the fine print. The contract says that Sam is my slave as long as I want but it is indefinite, so, if Sam were to die… where do you think he'll go?"

"Hell," Castiel breathed, "That was a stupid mistake-"

Lilith began laughing, causing the angel to stop talking.

"You won't get your Righteous Man if that's what you're thinking!" Lilith exclaimed smugly, "The man must shed blood in Hell but if Sam never gets the chance… if he is never given the knife than you're still at a stalemate."

Castiel's eyes widened. The demon had thought of everything to stymie the Apocalypse.

He moved with lightning-fast reflexes and grabbed the front of Lilith's dress, dragging her forward. She did not appear afraid of him, instead she smirked knowingly, looking right into his eyes as he placed a hand on her brow and banished her once again to the Pit.

The body of Lilith's host- Mandy Beard- fell to the floor lifelessly.

Castiel, shocked by the new development that had arisen, recalled that he had sent Dean Winchester in search of his brother and quickly traveled down to the lowest level of the mansion.

The encounter with Lilith had taken only seconds and Dean had just reached the bottom of the basement stairs when Castiel appeared in the den, amongst the leather-upholstered furniture.

Dean jumped in surprise but the angel ignored the reaction.

"Follow me," Castiel instructed gruffly and led the way down the hallway to the room where the youngest Winchester was.

The door was made of a heavy metal, secured by a padlock but neither posed any problem for the angel. Castiel opened the door, the lock snapping as he did so and Dean pushed past him, into the room.

"Sammy?" Dean called quietly. The angel tilted his head; he could clearly see the young man curled up in the far corner of the room, illuminated by the dirty light bulb hanging from the ceiling.

"Sammy," Dean spoke again as he stepped closer, "It's me… Dean."

The young man looked up and Castiel heard the older sibling gasp. Sam's clothes were torn and filthy, his face pale and thin, his eyes wide with fear.

"D-Dean?" the young man whispered nervously.

"Yeah, Sammy," Dean said and smiled sadly, "I'm here."

"N-no! You c-can't be here!" Sam exclaimed suddenly, sitting up and pressing back against the wall, his eyes darted around the room in near panic.

He caught sight of the angel and immediately lowered his gaze to the floor, trembling.

"Sammy," Dean stepped forward, "It's alright, we're here to rescue you."

"N-no," Sam whimpered, "Y-you ha-have to leave… Lilith will k-kill you."

"Lilith is no longer here," Castiel spoke up for the first time and the young man flinched at the sound of the angel's voice.

"Are you…" Sam hesitated, eyes never leaving the grimy concrete floor beneath him, "my new m-master?"

"I am an angel of the Lord," he explained, his tone still rough but gentle, "My name is Castiel."

The human shook his head and wrapped his arms protectively around his midsection.

"Sammy," Dean stepped forward again and his brother cringed away from him, clearly afraid.

"Dean," the hunter looked over at the angel, "We should not linger."

The older brother frowned, "Okay."

Castiel strode forward, past Dean until he was standing only inches away from the youngest man, "Samuel Winchester, we mean you no harm. We are here to rescue you."

"Y-you can't!" the young man cried, pushing himself against the wall as though he were trying to disappear into it, "I h-have to stay here! The deal-"

"Lilith will not touch your brother," Castiel assured the young man, "Both of you are safe from her."

Although Castiel knew he was lying, he didn't see a way around it.

Sam slowly lifted his head and looked at the angel, large tears welling up in his eyes.

"Sammy," Dean reached towards his brother but Sam flinched away, looking at the floor again.

Castiel realized that they were getting nowhere with the young man and he knew that it would be unwise to stay longer than necessary.

He brought his hand down towards Sam and the younger Winchester whimpered in fear. Castiel pressed his palm to the human's brow and Sam slumped forward, unconscious.

"What did you just do?!" Dean exclaimed, eyes wide with shock, his tone accusatory.

"Your brother is only asleep," Castiel answered calmly, keeping one hand on the young man's forehead, "We must leave this place. Tell me where you wish to go."

"Uh… the motel room I guess," Dean shrugged, his gaze locked on his sibling.

Castiel nodded and touched Dean's face with his free hand.

The eldest Winchester appeared to have been prepared for the second flight; he didn't stagger as much as previously.

"Sam," Dean crouched down where Castiel had deposited his brother on the floor, "Are you awake?"

"He will sleep for a while longer," the angel told the hunter.

"You said you knew Bobby Singer," Dean looked up at the angel, "Can you take us there?"

Castiel nodded, "I can."

"And my car," Dean continued, "Can't leave her."

The angel eyed the young man, insulted at the thought of having to transport the young man's vehicle as well.

"I am not some pack animal," Castiel argued.

"Okay, sorry," Dean apologized, "We can stay here then… I can call Bobby."

The angel watched as Dean brushed his brother's bangs carefully away from his forehead.

"What did those bastards do to you, Sammy?" the eldest Winchester whispered.

"If you would like," Castiel said, "I can bring Robert Singer here."

Dean didn't look up at the angel, "Whatever."

Castiel remained where he was a moment longer before disappearing.

_SPN_

Bobby looked at his calendar through bleary eyes. He could hardly believe that Sam had been gone for an entire year; it seemed unreal.

Lifting his glass to his lips, the grizzled hunter let out a shocked cry when a man appeared right in front of him.

Grabbing the gun he had taped underneath his kitchen table, Bobby pointed the weapon at the would-be intruder.

"Get the hell outta my house if you know what's good for ya!"

"Robert Singer," the man said, "I am a friend. Dean Winchester sent me."

Bobby barked a humorless laugh, "That boy don't talk to me on a good day, what's gonna make you think I'd believe he sent someone along?"

"My name is Castiel, I am an angel," the man said, "Please, Dean and Sam need you."

"Sam? Sam's dead," Bobby snarled, finger itching to pull the trigger of his gun.

"He is alive as you or me," the man said and Bobby had heard enough. His finger twitched but he suddenly found himself empty-handed. The gun was gone!

"Balls!" Bobby struggled to his feet and reached for the half-finished bottle of Jim Beam in front of him.

"I see you are inebriated," Castiel said, "Perhaps now is not the best time to try and fight me."

Bobby squinted at the man, taking in his trench coat and dress clothes, his sincere blue eyes and messy black hair.

"An angel, huh?" Bobby muttered.

"Yes," Castiel replied.

"Why now?" the veteran hunter asked gruffly, "Why do you choose now of all times to show up?"

The man did not answer, "Dean is waiting for you."

"This ain't a trick?" Bobby asked. He wasn't sure if this man was an enemy. If he had been a threat, he was sure he would have attacked already.

"No," Castiel confirmed, "I am not lying to you."

Bobby walked around the kitchen table, one hand against the flat surface for support.

Castiel moved forward, "You cannot help the Winchesters in your condition."

Before the older man could protest, the stranger had placed a hand to his chest and suddenly Bobby felt as sober as he had been on the day he was born. He blinked in astonishment at the angel.

"Yer the real McCoy," Bobby whispered.

The angel made no reply but moved his hand from Bobby's chest to his brow and in seconds they were traveling back to Dean's motel room.

Bobby nearly fell on his face as soon as his feet touched the carpet. He was sure he was going to be sick and he groaned miserably.

"Bobby!" the exclamation startled the veteran hunter and his eyes shot open wide.

The older man barely had time to speak before Dean was dragging him forward, one hand on his wrist.

Bobby gaped in shock at the younger man's appearance. Dean's face was flushed and his eyes were wide and red-rimmed.

"It's Sammy!" Dean nearly shouted, "He's alive. He was alive the entire time. I didn't know. The demons used a different body-"

"Calm down son," Bobby said but stopped when he saw the young man lying unconscious on the motel room floor.

"Christ on a cracker," Bobby muttered and stared at the youngest Winchester.

"Bobby?" Dean called, shaking the man's arm, "Are you going to have a heart attack on me?"

"Is it really him?" Bobby managed to whisper. It felt like his heart had indeed stopped beating.

"Yeah," Dean answered quietly, "It's Sammy."

"Yer friend-" Bobby glanced around, the man had vanished.

"He was right here," Bobby said, blinking a couple of times as though his eyes were the problem.

Dean stared wide-eyed around the motel room, "Hey! Castiel! Where are you? Angel!"

Bobby glanced at the eldest Winchester, dumbfounded.

Both of the hunters looked down at the prostrate form on the floor when Sam groaned.

**Author's Note:**

**1. Chapter title comes from a song by Killing Joke.**

**2. Thanks to babyreaper, What You See in the Shadows, BranchSuper, cold kagome, mandancie, SamDeanLover28, doyleshuny, anna3311234, L.A.H.H, Olive-Pizza, Elishab68, angeleyenc, avidreader33, What You See in the Shadows, MysteryMadchen, AlxM, murphy9202, and SPN Mum for reviewing.**

**3. I hope you all enjoy this extra long chapter! Please let me know what you thought!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine: Breaking Out, Breaking Down**

"Sam!" Dean exclaimed and fell onto his knees beside his brother. Bobby moved in closer to the two young men, too stunned to speak.

The eldest Winchester reached out a hand and placed his palm on his brother's chest.

"Sammy?" Dean whispered, "Can you open your eyes for me? C'mon man, you can do it."

The younger man groaned again and Dean smiled eagerly.

Dean jumped back when his brother's eyes snapped open and Sam gasped, struggling to pull himself into a sitting position and scooted away from his older sibling on his backside.

"Hey, hey," Dean held out both hands, palms out in a non-threatening manner, "It's okay Sam, it's just me."

The young man blinked as though he was still groggy from having been knocked out by the angel and wrapped his arms around his middle, shivering.

"D-Dean?" Sam asked; his voice hoarse and so quiet that both men had to strain to hear him.

His brother smiled, "It's so damn good to see you."

Sam shook his head and lowered his gaze to the grungy motel carpet.

"Sammy?" Dean asked and moved closer to his brother, "Hey, Sam, come here."

The young man hesitated, clearly shaken but then he practically flung himself in Dean's direction. Sam grabbed onto his brother's shirt and hung on as if for dear life.

Startled by Sam's reaction, Dean froze for a moment before he wrapped his arms around his brother's shoulders, noting how thin they were, and squeezed him back.

"I've got ya, Sammy," Dean murmured thickly, tears prickling in the corners of his eyes, "Everything's gonna be alright."

Sam shook his head, "Nuh… No… Y-you shouldn't have come, D-Dean."

Dean frowned and pulled away so that he could speak to his brother easier, "What are you talking about?"

Sam wouldn't look at him; he stared down at the floor as he spoke, his voice cracking from disuse.

"Th-the deal… it's n-not over, Dean… I'm not f-free."

Dean grabbed Sam's upper arms, "Look at me, Sam."

His brother brought his eyes up to his and Dean held back the urge to flinch. Sam's eyes were wet with tears, sunken and bruised-looking. There was a deep, penetrating sadness in his gaze that Dean couldn't bear to look at even for a moment.

"Lilith's gone," Dean assured his brother, forcing himself to keep looking at his brother's face, "The angel got rid of her."

Sam's brow furrowed for a moment, "H-he did?"

Dean smiled as much as he could in the situation, "Yeah, took her out after he dealt with her cronies."

Realization dawned in Sam's eyes and his face crumpled as he broke down. Dean closed his eyes and tried to keep from crying himself as Sam soaked the shoulder of his shirt with tears.

It still seemed so unreal, even though he was sitting with Sam in his arms, that his baby brother could still be alive. Dean felt guilty for believing the demon, for believing his own eyes when he'd seen that mangled corpse lying in the grass. Sam was a fighter. He should have remembered that, should have gone with his gut feeling and known something fishy was going on. Hell, it was kind of obvious wasn't it? After denying Sam's deals for so long, why would Lilith suddenly have a change of heart?

The sound of Bobby clearing his throat brought Dean from his thoughts. He craned his neck to look up at the grizzled hunter.

"We should take a look at 'im," the older man suggested softly, "And then all of us get some rest."

Dean nodded and turned his attention back to his brother. He lifted one hand and carefully drew Sam's bangs away from his face. His brother's eyes were half-closed but he immediately looked away when he noticed Dean scrutinizing him.

The eldest Winchester frowned. It was kind of wigging him out that Sam wouldn't look him in the eye. Deciding that they could talk about it later, Dean moved to stand and brought his brother up with him, holding onto Sam's arms to keep him from falling.

Dean gently guided his brother over to the bed farthest from the door- closest to the bathroom- and sat him down at the edge. He took a moment to assess Sam visually, taking in his dirty, tangled hair, hunched shoulders, downcast expression, and filthy clothes.

"Bobby," Dean addressed the grizzled hunter without taking his eyes off his brother, "Sam's duffel's in the Impala's trunk."

Dean didn't see Bobby's surprised expression as he took his car keys from his pocket and handed them to the older man.

Once the door was closed behind Bobby, Dean went into action. He needed to get Sam out of his soiled clothes.

Standing over his brother, trying not to be intimidating, Dean reached out towards Sam. The younger man cringed away and whimpered.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Dean soothed and Sam looked down, shamefaced.

"M'sorry," he whispered and Dean wondered exactly what had his brother been through the past year.

"I was just going to help you take your shirt off," Dean explained to his brother, thinking that it might help Sam calm down if he knew what he intended to do.

"I… I can d-do it," Sam told Dean quietly and raised shaking hands to unbutton his flannel shirt.

Dean waited patiently, only brushing Sam's hands away when the shaking got so bad his younger sibling fumbled uselessly with the buttons for longer than necessary. The first thing Dean noticed when he saw his brother's bare chest was that Sam had indeed lost a lot of weight. He grimaced in sympathy at the sight of his brother's ribs clearly visible underneath his skin.

Dried blood and grime made it difficult for Dean to see if Sam had any injuries. He carefully helped Sam take his arms out of his sleeves and set the shirt aside.

Sam's pants were easier to remove. Since Sam was so thin, they simply slid down his hips once he'd untied the length of string that had been holding them up.

A friggin' piece of string! Dean fumed; those bastards couldn't give him a belt?! Clearly the demons had not been concerned that Sam would try and kill himself; Dean guessed it was just a way of dehumanizing his brother and stripping him of his dignity.

What else did those fuckers do to you? Dean wanted to ask but once again kept his mouth shut. Now was not the time to ask those sorts of question. Right now Dean had to focus on getting his brother cleaned up and into bed so he could get some much needed rest.

Sam was clearly uncomfortable standing in front of Dean in nothing but his boxer shorts. He had his arms wrapped protectively over his chest, his shoulders hunched forward and his head down, gaze on the motel carpet.

Dean didn't like how much his brother was shaking and decided he didn't trust him to be in the bathroom by himself.

Standing, Dean addressed his brother, "I'm going to run a bath, okay?"

Sam bobbed his head once but didn't say anything.

"Sit down," Dean ordered; keeping his tone gentle and his brother did as he asked. Once Sam was sitting on the edge of the bed again, Dean grabbed the duvet and drew it up to his brother's shoulders.

The motel room door opened as Dean turned towards the bathroom and Bobby stepped inside with a familiar Army-green duffel bag.

Seeing what the eldest Winchester intended, the veteran hunter sat down beside Sam and began taking out the necessary clothing. Cocooned in the blanket, Sam watched Bobby dig through the duffel bag, deciding that a pair of grey jogging pants and an old zip-up hoodie would be most comfortable for the young man.

Dean knelt beside the bathtub, leaving the door open so Sam could see what he was doing. He had a feeling that such consideration would make his brother feel safer and turned on the taps. Making sure the water was at a comfortable temperature; Dean stood and grabbed a couple of towels and wash clothes, putting them within easy reach.

Walking back into the main room, Dean smiled at Bobby and the older man made a face in return. He clearly wasn't happy seeing Sam in such a state either. Dean wondered how bad it would be once they had his brother cleaned up.

"Okay Sammy," Dean stepped in front of his brother, "You ready?"

The younger man nodded and pushed the blanket away with one hand. He stood shakily and Dean steadied him with a hand on one thin shoulder.

"You want some help?" Bobby asked, unsure of what he should do.

Dean shook his head, "I think we'll be okay, right Sam?"

His brother didn't reply. He stared at the floor as they walked the short distance to the bathroom.

Dean wanted to make the situation the least embarrassing for everyone involved so he closed the bathroom door nearly all the way, only leaving it open a crack so Bobby wouldn't have to fiddle with the handle if something went wrong.

Dean heard the television in the main room turn on and the low murmur of a news channel indicated the grizzled hunter was trying to give the brothers as much privacy as possible.

Dean checked the water in the tub and was satisfied with the warmth. Sam had always been shy about Dean seeing him in the nude- something the elder Winchester didn't really understand; Dean had been taking care of Sam since he was six months old and it was nothing he hadn't seen before- so he looked away while Sam took his boxers off.

"Ready?" Dean asked.

"Y-yeah," Sam answered quietly and Dean helped him into the bathtub, pointedly keeping his eyes on his younger sibling's face.

Once he was sitting, Sam drew his knees up to his chest and didn't move. His eyes were closed though and there was the ghost of a smile on his face so Dean decided to take that as a good thing.

"Here Sammy," Dean reached out and touched his brother's shoulder with one of the motel's white washcloths.

The younger man reached up and took the cloth.

"Let me know if you need help," Dean said and sat down on the closed lid of the toilet.

For a few minutes the only sound was the gentle slosh of water but then Dean heard Sam give a frustrated noise. Instantly, he turned his attention to his brother.

The once-white washcloth was now an unpleasant shade of brownish-red. The water in the tub was starting to look skuzzy as well but Sam was still covered in dried blood stains and ground in grime.

The younger man stared up at his brother with confusion in his eyes that nearly made Dean's heart break.

"It's alright Sam," he assured his brother quietly, "Here you go."

Dean handed his brother a clean cloth and Sam eager took it. Dean had to drain the tub twice before the water remained clear. Every scar and mark on Sam's body that was revealed made Dean's blood boil. He wanted to punch something. Hard.

The most recent injuries Sam had acquired, that very morning, were still red and raw- painful looking. Dean prudently asked Bobby to go retrieve the First Aid Kit that was in his duffel and give it to him.

Dean quickly had Sam dressed in the clean clothes the older hunter had picked out so that he wouldn't feel so exposed and vulnerable and accepted the Kit from Bobby.

Having Sam sit down on the toilet lid, Dean expertly wiped at the wounds with antiseptic clothes and covered them with gauze.

Sam had stopped shaking somewhat and leaned tiredly against the counter while Dean worked. The younger man sat with the hoodie unzipped so that his brother could get to the wounds easier and every time Dean looked up and saw the brand on his brother's chest, he felt the lump that had formed in his throat grow larger and larger as if it was trying to choke him.

How could Sam have agreed to something like this? Why? Just to save him?

Dean looked down at his watch and back up to his brother. Sam was clearly exhausted and Dean wanted him to get some rest as soon as possible.

"All done, Sammy," he said as casually as he could manage- as though he was just patching his brother up after a hunt- and Sam zipped the hoodie up.

He followed Dean out into the main room and waited while his older brother pulled the blankets down for him. Climbing into the bed, Sam curled up tightly but didn't close his eyes right away.

"It's alright, Sammy," Dean reassured him, "You're safe."

He turned away from his younger brother and sat down with Bobby at the small motel table. Neither man said anything at first, they were waiting for Sam to fall asleep, and simply dwelt on their own thoughts.

_W_

Once he was sure Sam wasn't going to hear them, Dean spoke to Bobby in a quiet voice.

"They fucking branded him, Bobby!" Dean hissed, leaning over the table towards the older hunter, hands clenched into fists.

The man's expression darkened, "What the hell did Sam sign up fer, Dean?"

Dean wiped a hand over his face, "Lilith didn't want Sammy dead, I guess. I don't know why. So instead she offered my soul if he would be her slave."

The older hunter's eyes nearly bulged out of his head at the news.

"Of all the hare-brained things you two have done, this one takes the cake!" Bobby criticized, shaking his head.

"If I had known what Sam was going to do, I would have locked him in the Impala's trunk and refused to let him out until my contract was up, believe me," Dean told the other hunter sincerely.

Bobby looked towards the sleeping young man, "Poor bugger."

Dean nodded. The scars he had seen painted a grim picture. No wonder Sam had been scared shitless. He had spent an entire year being abused.

"What else, Dean?" Bobby asked, sounding reluctant but certain in his need to know what had been done to his youngest boy.

The eldest Winchester ran a hand through his hair, "They... I… I can't do this right now, Bobby. Sorry."

Dean stood and tried to blink away the tears forming in his eyes. Bobby waited patiently. He didn't say anything, just gave Dean time to pull himself together.

Once the young man was able to continue he sat back down. Dean rubbed his hands over his face and shook his head.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Dean described to Bobby in a hushed voice, the evidence of physical abuse he had seen on his brother. Dean told Bobby about the many lashes on Sam's back, clearly from a whip; he told him about the scars that he was sure were burns, and dozens of others that he didn't even want to begin to hypothesize what had caused them.

As Dean spoke, Bobby's lips pursed into a thin, white line and his eyes darkened from their usual warm brown to near-black.

Being unable to kill those sons of bitches himself really pissed Dean off to no end but he guessed it was for the best. He would rather be with his brother instead of becoming obsessed with revenge like their father had been.

Bobby let out a long breath, trying to calm himself down.

"Why don't you get some sleep? I'm not really tired right now," Dean said and although the older man tried to protest, he eventually gave in and settled into the second bed, the one closest to the door.

Dean stood, stretched and grabbed a beer from the room's mini fridge and opened it. He glanced over at his sleeping brother and felt tears prick his eyes.

Sam's here, he told himself fiercely, he's with you and he's safe so don't start crying like a girl.

Grimacing, Dean took a swig of beer and sat back down at the table. He ran both hands through his short-cropped hair and sighed.

What a helluva day, he thought, and glanced at the sleeping form of his brother.

As though he knew, even as he slept, that he was being watched, Sam's brow furrowed and muttered something quietly.

Standing, curious, Dean approached Sam until he was just close enough to hear what his brother was saying.

The eldest Winchester waited only a moment before his brother spoke again.

"D'n… D'n…" the sleeping young man muttered and before Dean could stop himself, he reached out and brushed his brother's bangs away from his forehead.

"I'm right here, Sammy," he whispered, "I'm here. I'm not going to leave you again. I promise."

What was meant to be a private moment- that Dean would never tell anyone about- turned sour when Sam opened his eyes, his gaze unfocused and let out a whimper of fear, pushing himself away from the perceived threat.

"Sam!" Dean exclaimed and grabbed his brother's arm to keep him from falling off the bed, "It's just me!"

The sound startled Bobby and the grizzled hunter sat up drowsily.

Sam tried ineffectively to pull himself out of his brother's grasp and started shaking, his eyes downcast and filling with tears of fear.

"It's alright, Sammy," Dean soothed, "I'm not going to hurt you."

Dean climbed onto the bed and pulled his brother into a careful hug. Sam froze as though he didn't know what to do but then he grabbed onto Dean's shirt and clung as tightly as possible to him. Dean realized his brother was inching closer and closer to him and he tightened his grip on Sam.

"I'm sorry, Sam," he whispered, partly for startling his brother awake and partly for all that had happened to him in the past year, "I'm so sorry."

Bobby, acting as though the display of affection was quite normal, stood and shuffled his way into the bathroom.

Once his brother had calmed down again, Dean glanced up at Bobby who had taken a seat at the room's small table, a day-old newspaper in front of him. He knew the older hunter was leaving the second bed free for him to use. Shifting, preparing to get up, Dean stopped when Sam refused to let him go.

"No Dean," his brother said quietly, not even looking at him, "Please stay."

The bed was certainly not big enough for two fully grown men but Dean could have cared less. He smiled sadly at his brother as Sam curled up once more, scrunching up as small as possible. Dean shifted to the edge of the bed, trying to give his brother as much room as he could. Staring up at the ceiling, Dean tried to recall the last time they had slept in the same bed. It had to have been a long time ago, when both he and Sam were kids, much smaller and less self-conscious than they were now.

Dean startled when he felt the bed move; Sam rolling over closer to him so that his back pressed against his older brother's side. The eldest Winchester swallowed the lump in his throat and draped a protective arm over his brother.

A rustle of paper drew Dean's attention across the room to Bobby. The grizzled hunter was looking at the brothers, a smile on his weathered features.

"You take any pictures and I'll kick your ass, old man," Dean whispered threateningly.

Bobby chuckled softly before standing and making his way back to the other bed, turning off the overhead light as he did so. Dean felt his brother tense for a moment before relaxing again. After a few minutes of lying in the darkness, the pull of sleep became irresistible and Dean closed his eyes, happy for the first time in what seemed like a very, very long time.

**Author's Note:**

**1. Chapter title comes from a Bullet For My Valentine song of the same name.**

**2. Thanks to anna3311234, babyreaper, SamDeanLover28, L.A.H.H, BranchSuper, MysteryMadchen, Stryder2008, Elisab68, AshleyMarie84, sarah, Eliza T, mandancie, What You See in the Shadows, BlueElly, CeCe Away, angeleyenc and Guest for reviewing.**

**3. Thanks to everyone who alerted, favourited, or followed.**

**4. Please let me know what you thought of this chapter! Sam's been rescue but let us not forget that Lilith is not dead as Dean thinks. How long do you think the brothers will have before the demon queen returns to continue the contract?**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten: Broken**

Dean startled awake at the sound of the motel room's door closing. He sat up and saw Bobby step inside with a brown paper bag and a drink tray.

"Hey," the gruff hunter whispered quietly and set his purchases down on the table.

Dean wiped a hand across his face and glanced at the bedside clock, seeing that it was nine-thirty in the morning.

He peered down at his brother. Sam was lying close to him, curled up, sleeping peacefully. Dean smiled and got out of bed as carefully as possible so he wouldn't wake his sibling. He paused to pull the blankets up to Sam's shoulders before walking over to the table to see what Bobby had bought.

He thanked the grizzled hunter when Bobby handed him a paper cup of coffee and dug around in the bag for a moment before pulling out a Styrofoam container.

Dean opened the container to find two fried eggs, a piece of toast and six pieces of bacon inside.

The younger man's stomach growled loudly and Dean remembered he had only eaten breakfast the day before, missing lunch because he was too busy drinking and completely forgetting about dinner while he looked after Sam.

Dean looked at Bobby when the older man handed him a Styrofoam bowl with a plastic lid.

"It's oatmeal," Bobby told him quietly, "I doubt Sam got three meals a day and I figured this would be the easiest on his stomach."

Ignoring his own food, Dean took the offered bowl and plastic spoon, "Thanks Bobby."

Although he would have liked to let his brother sleep some more, Dean wanted to get some food into Sam as soon as possible and then get out of town. Bobby needed to get back to South Dakota and Dean knew that he and Sam would be going with him.

Walking over to Sam's side of the bed, Dean crouched down and laid a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Sammy?" His brother's eyes opened almost immediately and Sam cringed away from him fearfully.

"Hey, it's just me," Dean tried to calm his brother, "Bobby brought you breakfast."

Dean's eyebrows rose in confusion when Sam's face turned green.

"Sam? Sammy, look," Dean popped the lid off the Styrofoam container and lifted it so Sam could see what was in it, "Oatmeal."

"Oh," Sam whispered, his gaze dropping and embarrassment crossing his features, "S-s-sorry."

Dean squeezed his brother's shoulder comfortingly and held out the bowl and plastic spoon. Sam sat up, hunching over as he did so and took the Styrofoam container and spoon.

Dean watched as his brother tentatively scooped up some of the breakfast cereal and brought it to his mouth.

Sam took a small bite, chewing as though he was afraid Dean would give him something awful to eat. Dean couldn't help but smile when Sam dug the plastic spoon into the bowl of oatmeal and scooped up a generous portion, eating the cereal as though it wasn't just plain porridge but the most delicious food ever tasted.

"Whoa! Hold on Sammy!" Dean exclaimed when Sam began wolfing down the food, far too fast for his older brother's liking.

The younger Winchester stopped with the spoon halfway to his mouth, a look of fear crossing his features.

"You don't have to stop eating, Sammy," Dean said quickly, "Just eat slower. I don't want you to choke, okay?"

Sam lowered his gaze as if Dean had yelled at him and nodded, stirring the spoon around in the oatmeal before taking up a very small amount on the tip of the utensil.

Dean opened his mouth to tell Sam he didn't have to eat like _that_ but then he closed it again. Peering over his shoulder at Bobby, Dean gave the grizzled hunter a 'what am I supposed to do?' look.

"Eat your breakfast before it gets cold," the older hunter said with a shrug.

Standing, Dean went to the table and grabbed the Styrofoam container with his own breakfast inside and began munching away. Dean though, hardly tasted what he ate.

He would feel better once they were at Bobby's. He hoped that the familiar salvage yard would help Sam relax.

At least he's safe, Dean thought, that's all that matters now.

_W_

Once Sam was finished eating, Dean checked the wounds he'd bandaged up the night before, cleaning them again and covering them with fresh gauze.

Sam sat rigid as Dean worked, trying to be as gentle as possible. He still wouldn't meet his older brother's eyes and that hurt. Dean had never known Sam to be so meek and skittish. He knew it was a result of whatever that bitch Lilith had put him through during the past year and hoped that Sam would soon be back to his pain-in-the-ass self.

Dean tried to talk to Sam, chattering on about nothing in particular, trying to be upbeat and positive.

Bobby packed the brothers' things into the trunk of the Impala as Dean tended to Sam, giving them some privacy.

"You boys ready?" the grizzled hunter poked his head into the motel room just as Dean finished patching up the last of the wounds.

Dean nodded and Sam followed along behind him silently, dressed in a comfortable clothing- a pair dark blue sweat pants and a grey pullover sweater- staring at his feet instead of straight ahead.

Dean smiled when he saw that Bobby had taken the three 'emergency' blankets from the Impala's trunk and spread them out on the backseat, making a sort of nest.

Sam climbed into the backseat of the car and Dean closed the door. Sam took up one of the blankets- a red woolen one- and wrapped it around himself.

Bobby sat up front in shotgun while Dean took the driver's seat. After a quick stop at the motel office to check out, the three were on their way to Sioux Falls.

Dean had thought his brother would curl up in the back and sleep but Sam stared out the passenger window, raptly.

Bobby caught Dean watching Sam in the rearview mirror and gave a small smile through his ruddy beard.

_SPN_

"Lilith will never allow either of the Winchesters become the Righteous Man," Castiel told Uriel, "She will not take Dean's soul and if Sam dies he will be tortured for an eternity in the Pit."

The archangel passed the snow-topped mountain peak, his face dark with displeasure.

Castiel tilted his head, "Could not another human be used-"

"No!" Uriel snapped at the lesser angel, "It must be one of the Winchesters."

They were truly at a stalemate then. Lilith was doing everything in her power to prevent the Apocalypse (and her own demise).

The archangel suddenly paused, a look of cunning dawning on his dark features.

"Uriel? What is it?" Castiel asked.

"There _is_ another Winchester," the archangel said, smiling widely.

Castiel's eyes widened. Surely that would not work. Dean and Sam were meant to start Armageddon and release Lucifer. Not the boy.

"Adam Milligan will be the Righteous Man," the archangel announced.

"You cannot-" Castiel began to argue but was interrupted by Uriel.

"Your task is complete, Castiel," the archangel said arrogantly, "Return to your post."

The lesser angel opened his mouth to speak again but thought better of it. This was not right. Adam Milligan was not meant to be a part of this.

_SPN_

Dean smiled in relief as he drove past the sign welcoming them to Sioux Falls. It had been a long day but they had finally arrived.

Bobby was snoozing in the passenger's seat, his baseball cap pulled down over his eyes as he snored quietly.

Sam was awake. He had fallen asleep two hours after they had started out, only to wake up again with a confused and startled expression on his face- most likely from a nightmare- before realizing that he was safe in the Impala and stared hungrily out the windows as trying to take in all the sights he had missed during the past year.

Classic rock and roll played from the speakers. Dean hadn't been able to ride for long without music and had finally given into temptation. He had been about to change the station to something more soothing- maybe Bach or Beethoven or Mozart- when Sam had shaken his head, letting Dean know he wanted it left on, Quiet Riot singing about metal health.

Sam's expression had turned nostalgic as he listened to the music and Dean had to swallow the lump in his throat.

They had eaten take-out lunches, Bobby suggesting that they eat as they drove. Dean knew it was more than a sense of urgency to get back to Sioux Falls but the uncertainty of brining Sam into a public place. The young man still wouldn't hold his brother (or Bobby's) gaze for any length of time and spoke in monosyllables when he did talk at all. Besides that, it was clear from Sam's physical appearance that something bad had happened to him. Although his face was mostly obscured by his shaggy bangs, his clothes were clearly too big for him and moved from periods of fidgeting to sitting as still as stone in the backseat.

No, it was best if they didn't eat in restaurants for a while.

As they entered the city limits, Dean reached across the seat and shook Bobby's shoulder.

"Hey old man," he said, "We're home."

Bobby grunted awake, looked around for a moment before pushing his baseball cap up and stretching in the confines of the front seat.

Peering around the back of the seat, Bobby glanced at Sam who was staring out the side window at the houses they were passing.

_SPN_

Castiel smiled at the newborn infants wrapped securely in their blue and pink blankets, their names displayed at the ends of their incubators. The tiny creatures looked so fragile and vulnerable.

The angel thought about the archangel's plan to have Adam Milligan- Sam and Dean's half-brother- become the Righteous Man destiny demanded.

The boy knew nothing of the supernatural, knew nothing of angels or demons and yet Uriel had no qualms about destroying the young man's life.

Castiel recalled Lilith's plan of preventing Sam from taking on the role of the Righteous Man- her promise that he would never shed blood in Hell- and knew that it would be the same for Adam. If Lilith found out what Uriel was planning, she would stop the young man from breaking the first Seal as well.

Adam Milligan will have died for nothing.

Castiel could not allow an innocent human to suffer for mistakes that were not his own.

But what could he do? He was forbidden from interfering with humans.

Perhaps Uriel would realize his plan was folly. Perhaps a different substitute would be found; good men and women sold their souls routinely for more than just wealth and fame. A certain few paid the ultimate price for the lives of loved ones. Maybe one of them could break the first Seal, despite what Uriel claimed.

_SPN_

Dean sat down on Bobby's old, brown couch with a sigh. It was good to be back at the salvage yard after avoiding it for so long. The young hunter felt guilty for not seeing Bobby enough during the year he'd thought Sam had been dead but he just hadn't been able to bring himself to visit the grizzled hunter.

Noticing that Sam was standing in the doorway, Dean sat up and beckoned him into the room.

"C'mon over Sam," he encouraged, "You don't have to stand there."

His brother shuffled slowly into the room, clearly nervous. Dean's heart went out to his brother and he wished there was a way for him to help Sam realize that he didn't have to be afraid anymore.

Sam sat down cautiously on the edge of the couch, as far away from Dean as possible, looking ready to scramble up at a moment's notice.

"You remember this place, yeah?" Dean asked and his brother nodded.

Bobby entered the room with some drinks and Sam shot up from the couch as though the cushion had been electrified, a look of panic on his drawn features.

Realizing what he'd done, Sam lowered his head, "S-sorry."

"Don't apologize, son," Bobby said gently, "It ain't yer fault."

Sam sat back down, still not looking at all comfortable.

"Are you okay? Are you hurting?" Dean asked, thinking that his brother might be in pain.

Sam shook his head a little too quickly but Dean didn't argue with him. He didn't want to scare his brother.

Bobby handed the eldest Winchester a can of beer and held out a glass of milk towards Sam.

The young man took the offered beverage but didn't drink it. Dean gulped down his beer faster than he normally would. The silence was killing him.

Setting the empty can of beer aside, Dean grabbed the television remote and hit the ON button. The blank TV screen suddenly showed a grim-faced news anchor reporting the usual doom and gloom of the day; Dean changed the channel.

Surfing around for a few minutes, Dean found something that his brother would enjoy- a documentary about tropic fish in the Great Barrier Reef- and sat back, glancing at Bobby from the corner of his eye.

Maybe Dean could start getting Sam to open up if he actually had something to talk about instead of coming right out and asking his brother what had happened to him the past year he'd been Lilith's slave. Sam, though usually more willing to share his feelings than Dean, was shy and after what he had endured, had withdrawn even more so. Dean thought that the best way of getting his brother to talk was to ease him into it. Although the last thing Dean wanted was to know everything his brother had suffered, he knew that talking would help his brother, as it usually had in the past if something was troubling Sam.

But this was completely different. When he had been younger Sam would confide in his brother his desire to go to the movies with friends after he'd been forbidden from doing so by his father or stress over a particularly difficult test or- much to Sam's chagrin- ask Dean for advice about girls. No, this wasn't going to be like any of those times before. Dean wished he didn't have to know but something told him it was the only way to help his brother get better.

Dean startled when Bobby nudged him, the older hunter standing beside the couch, and turned his gaze to where the grizzled man was looking.

Sam was leaning forward on the couch, clearly watching the television screen through his bangs, still not completely relaxed- he looked tensed to jump and cower at the slighted provocation- but was soaking in every sight and sound.

Dean smiled, feeling ridiculously happy despite everything that had happened in the past year.

"You want another beer?" Bobby whispered so as not to disturb Sam and Dean nodded.

He's going to be okay, Dean thought as he watched his brother; everything's going to be alright now.

**Author's Note:**

**1. Chapter title comes from a Lifehouse song of the same name.**

**2. Thanks to anna3311234, avidreader33, nupinoop296, angeleyenc, What You See in the Shadows, Olive-Pizza, cold kagome, sarah, mandancie, BranchSuper, Elishab68, SamDeanLover28, babyreaper, AlxM, SPN Mum, BlueElly, MysteryMadchen, L.A.H.H and Guest for reviewing.**

**3. Thanks to everyone who alerted, favourited, followed this story.**

**4. Please review! So the Winchesters are safe at Bobby's but now Uriel has turned his sights on Adam. What is Cas going to do? **


End file.
